


Tangram

by prairiecrow



Series: Geometry [13]
Category: Knight Rider (1982), Torchwood
Genre: Absolution, All The Things Jack Can't Say, All The Things Jack Can't Say Part II, Angst, Ankle Cuffs, Artificial Intelligence, Background Poly, Baking, Bed Porn, Betrayal, Blindness Phobia, Blow Jobs, Bottom KITT, Carrying, Character Study, Deepthroating, Drowning, Edgeplay, Electricity, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, Exhibitionism, Fellatio, Fight Sex, Fingerfucking, Fire, First Time, First Time Topping, Forgiveness, Grief and Guilt to the Point of Madness, Group Sex, Harm to Children, Hiking, Hiking Porn, Humor, Immuration, Isolation, Jack Bottoms As Well As Tops, Jack Can Be Compassionate, Jack Feels, Jack Harkness Flirts, Jack's Past, KITT Can Interface With Living Systems, KITT POV, KITT Tops As Well As Bottoms, KITT is Very Fond of Children, KITT is a Hero, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Memories, Messiness Kink, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Naked Cuddling, Neatness Kink, Nightmares, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Ownership, Pheromones, Philosophical questions, Public Sex, Questions of Personhood, Reality Versus Illusion, Retail Kink, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Secret Names, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Sex Club, Sex in the woods, Shopping, Sleepiness, Snark, Spanish Influenza Epidemic of 1918, Surprises, Swingers, Team Dynamics, The Truth Squid, Three Laws of Robotics, Top Jack, Tragic Death, Trust Kink, Unbearable Truths, Voyeurism, Wrestling, ball play, gratitude, watching while sleeping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 34,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven ways that KITT fits into the life of Captain Jack Harkness (and that the Captain fits into his), arranged chronologically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Tangram: A seven-piece puzzle made from a square. A typical tangram set contains two large isosceles right triangles, one medium isosceles right triangle, two small isosceles right triangles, a square, and a parallelogram.

KITT had been programmed to fulfill several core functions as a robotic car: data acquisition, environmental monitoring, threat evaluation, defensive interventions… and really, none of that had changed when he'd found himself stuck in a new humanoid body. He was still reassuringly _himself_ , two legs and opposable thumbs and a face capable of expressing so much more than merely tone of voice notwithstanding, and as soon as it had become clear that he wasn't going back to Michael Knight, or his original body, anytime soon he'd set himself the task of learning how to carry out his mandate as efficiently as possible, with the Torchwood Three team as the focus of his efforts.  

 _[RESP: NEWPROTOCOL: OPERATION TORCHWOOD ASSIST: INITIATE]_  

He'd never been intended to act alone. He'd been engineered as an adjunct to a human pilot, and frankly found the idea of trying to "make it on his own" a thing of existential terror. Fortunately Jack Harkness had weighed his actions during the Vore invasion attempt and come to the conclusion that a being of KITT's talents would make a useful addition to his team, and so KITT had found a haven in this wide new world, and a place to make himself useful, if not exactly wanted. 

The first step had been to get comfortable in his own skin. It had taken him fifteen days, three hours and forty-eight minutes to feel fully at home in his android form — four limbs plus twenty smaller digits required a great deal of coordination, and even though the android seemed to have its own subroutines for managing three-dimensional movement he'd needed some time to get over being surprised by all the things it knew how to do "instinctively" — but he'd adapted. He'd had no choice. And in between bouts of amazement at how intricately programmed the android was, learning the extent of its energy manipulation and data extraction capabilities, intense number-crunching concerning the complex interplay of relationships on the Torchwood team, and the constant background ache of Michael's absence that occasionally spiked into highly distracting misery, KITT had done better than merely adapting: he'd excelled, to the point that he'd even earned Captain Harkness's hard-won praise. 

 _[QUERY: OPERATION JACK HARKNESS //UNKNOWN PARAMETERS //BEHAVIOURAL EVALUATION //PROCESSING… SUBJECT EVALUATION: PRACTICAL, IMPULSIVE, THRILL-SEEKING, EMOTIONAL… WARNING: TOO MANY UNDETERMINED VARIABLES TO GENERATE CONCLUSIONS ABOVE 27.3% RELIABILITY]_  

With so many adjustments to KITT's operational profile in progress, the Captain's obvious sexual interest had simply been one more strange environmental element to analyze, and far from the most urgent one on KITT's personal list: he considered Dr. Harper's clear hostility a more pressing matter, or Mr. Jones's relentless suspicion, since those could easily sabotage his own efforts to act effectively as a provisional member of the team. Besides, Captain Harkness was apparently sexually responsive to just about everything on two legs, which dropped the significance of his physiological responses to KITT's android form to nearly zero. So KITT had — well, not ignored it, KITT never ignored anything when it came to the humans he interacted with, but he'd certainly filed it away as something that could be given a more thorough analysis later, if the need ever arose. 

And it _had_ arisen. In spades. First that kiss in the alleyway, awakening a programming module inherent to KITT's android body that KITT had been previously unaware of: a part of himself that liked being kissed very much, and had even felt the need to return the caress at a higher level of intensity. 

And in the midst of that potent physical contact, a startling new paradigm had sprung into existence: _[RESP: NEWPROTOCOL: OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1… //99.912 TRENDING //ASSESS //99.3 TRENDING //ASSESS //99.934 TRENDING…. //100.00 HOLDING]_  

Of course he'd backed off the instant he'd realized that the Captain was probably under the influence of a psychotropic agent… but his conscious dismissal of the new protocol had proven ineffective. He'd found himself issuing the internal prompt to shut it down repeatedly, yet he'd remained acutely aware of every glance from his team leader, the way the Captain's gaze lingered on his eyes, his face, certain parts of his body — and he'd observed, fascinated, while his android form perceived that attention as positive input.  

For the first time in KITT's existence, the _[OPS TERMINATE]_ command had no effect whatsoever. And even more startling was his perception that this did not constitute a process failure worthy of alerting Toshiko Sato, his acting service technician.  

He had, in fact, been strongly inclined to tell nobody whatsoever. That was new too, and had made him feel even more conspicuously isolated in the midst of this tightly entwined yet conflicting group of humans. After all, even if he told somebody about the malfunction, what could be done about it? Toshiko was brilliant, but she'd admitted herself that she'd be reluctant to start altering KITT's code… Gwen might be sympathetic, but ultimately powerless… Owen would likely take it as confirmation that KITT wasn't to be trusted… Ianto would feel compelled to protect the Captain, his lover… 

And the Captain himself… 

 _[OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //UNKNOWN PARAMETERS //UNDETERMINED VARIABLES: 78.4% //RISK ASSESSMENT: EXTREMELY HIGH]_  

KITT was nothing if not exceedingly cautious, by specific design. He prided himself on calculating every probability and acting strictly according to the available data. He was the voice of reason, of prudence, of sanity and conservatism: taking wild risks and "going with the flow" wasn't something that came naturally to him, so to speak… 

… and yet he'd asked Captain Harkness to accompany him to human gathering places and teach him about human socio-sexual habits, having calculated (of course) exactly where such an evening might well lead given the Captain's passionate and impulsive nature. And when, after three hours/eleven minutes/thirty-eight seconds of increasingly intimate and intense interaction, the Captain had caught KITT's wrist in a punishing grip and growled into the android's ear — "Maybe I don't feel like sharing you with anybody else tonight!" — KITT had felt a complex (and largely "subconscious") set of calculations, generated by the protocol he'd been trying to shut down for nearly thirty-three days, cascade toward a climactic end sum: 

_[OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //UNKNOWN PARAMETERS //UNDETERMINED VARIABLES: 95.2% //RISK ASSESSMENT: EXTREMELY HIGH]_

He hadn't hesitated more than a few milliseconds before leaning back against the human's taller and sturdier body 

 _[PHEROMONAL OUTPUT INCREASE: 17.7%/5 SEC //SKIN TEMP INCREASE: 2.8 DEGREES/5 SEC //HEART RATE INCREASE: 7 BPM/5SEC //AGGRESSION LEVEL INCREASE: ~23%/5 SEC]_  

and he'd both heard the catch in Captain Harkness's breathing and felt the twitch of reaction through his leader's major muscle groups 

 _[RISK ASSESSMENT: EXTREMELY HIGH]_  

not to mention the most conspicuous physical manifestation of the Captain's sexual arousal, pressing against his left buttock

_[ABORT OPERATION? //PROCESSING //PROCESSING //PROCESSING]_

and he had let the _[JACKHARKNESS1]_ protocol take him over without a backward glance at the rationality he was so decisively abandoning — because sexuality was anything but rational, no, sexuality was hitting the gas full-throttle without having a course plotted in advance, it was _Oh, yes!_ and _Right there!_ and _Please, more, don't stop…_ and with Captain Harkness it meant agreeing to submit to the Captain's every command, and to willingly accept whatever the Captain chose to give.  

_[RISK ASSESSMENT: ACCEPTABLE]_

That part of it was far from new, or strange: in his former life, the life he'd never stopped yearning for, KITT had spent most of his runtime under the direct control of others. He'd trusted Michael and Bonnie and April's orders implicitly, and followed them to the letter. But this… 

There had never been anything quite like this before. KITT had always been the one with both "eyes" open, the constantly vigilant rational intelligence in every situation, but with Jack Harkness he could close his eyes and let go, he could simply respond, react,  _feel_ — and there was something about that which proved both tremendously freeing and viscerally terrifying.  

Freeing enough to be addictive, in its own way. And far from terrifying enough to convince KITT that calling a halt would be worthwhile. Therefore, when Captain Harkness had indicated that he was interested in pursuing an ongoing physical relationship — well, KITT was programmed to obey, wasn't he? Especially since the Captain was the closest thing to a pilot in KITT's current environment, and more than masterful enough to give Michael a run for his money. Frankly it had come as something of a relief: KITT was constitutionally constructed to serve one particular human being, and now he was doing exactly that, albeit in a previously unimaginable way. 

For the first time since he'd arrived in this dimension, KITT had felt… secure, as if he'd found a place where he finally belonged. And at peace, in a way that defied totally rational analysis. The way the Captain's smile warmed him now didn't make much sense either, but after a few attempts to come to grips with its effects intellectually he'd elected to file the data away and devote his processing power to other matters more germane to his functions at Torchwood Three. For twenty-three days he was sure of himself, of his place in the group's dynamics, and of what was expected of him — and he was content. 

But then, typically, Captain Harkness decided to step up his game and take things to whole other level — without consulting anybody else, of course, and certainly not the android he was making sexual use of on a semi-regular basis. 

 _Once is an accident, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action_ — Michael had introduced KITT to that particular paraphrase of an Ian Fleming quotation, and it contained a grain of statistic validity. It applied equally well in situations other than military engagements: for example, KITT started really paying attention when the Captain took him back to the Cardiff Apartments suite for the third Monday in a row on June 23rd 2008, thirty-seven days after their first sexual encounter in the suite's bedroom, and stayed with him there overnight for the third time running. KITT knew better by now than to press the Captain for details about the Captain's own behaviour: the human had little patience for self-analysis, much less for either giving or receiving long explanations. 

Instead KITT chose to observe, and sure enough, the Monday-and-Tuesday-at-the-apartment pattern became a regular event, with the Captain ushering KITT out of the Hub sometime in the mid-to-late afternoon on Monday, driving him to Queen Street in the Torchwood cabriolet, ordering in take-out, having a lively conversation over dinner, then taking KITT to the apartment's queen-sized hotel bed for equally energetic Dominant/submissive sex. He'd sleep in late the next morning, waken in an amorous mood ready for another round of sexual play, then make brunch for both of them before settling in for some TV (usually sports), more recreational conversation (usually about his or KITT's adventures in their former lives), or (rarely) some paperwork brought in from the Hub, before driving back again in the early-to-mid afternoon. KITT, who only had to perform about one and a half seconds worth of calculations to determine the psychological benefits of these sorts of breaks from a steady diet of work, did his best to enhance the experience: he was willing in bed (the Captain was a singularly skilled and generous lover), engaging in conversation (they never seemed to run out of things to talk about), and otherwise helpful in silence or in service (reading a book, for example, while the Captain cheered for the sports teams, or offering practical assistance whenever possible with the never-ending stream of paperwork).  

The Captain never offered an explanation for his change in behaviour. And KITT, well aware of the futility of asking, simply followed his lead. It was what he'd been created to do, after all… 

… and lying in bed naked on an early Tuesday morning while dawn slowly filled the bedroom with rosy light, studying the equally naked Captain's sleeping face turned toward him on the pillow and absorbing the warm contentment that infused those agile features with peace and curved those full lips in a drowsy half-smile… 

 _[OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //KNOWN PARAMETERS: 1,537 //VITALS: OPTIMAL RANGE //BRAIN WAVES: DELTA //RISK ASSESSMENT: EXTREMELY LOW]_  

This, too, was one of KITT's core functions: he kept watch. And if asked, he would have had to admit that he found a satisfaction in the duty that was unique to this time, this place, and this particular individual, in ways that were extremely difficult to quantify. 

When the Captain awoke enough to reach for him, that slight smile widening to a brilliance that rivalled the sun's own radiance, KITT moved in to meet the human's touch 

 _[OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //REVISED PARAMETER:_ ** _MY_** _HUMAN'S TOUCH]_  

without a microsecond's hesitation for second thoughts.


	2. Hiking

The apartment's bed was queen-sized, of a plain functional design, and not particularly comfortable, at least in KITT's opinion — not that he had much basis for comparison, since it was the only mattress he'd ever spent time lying on. Given the number of times (684) that Michael had complained about aches and pains and cricks in his cervical vertebrae after sleeping in various establishments while on the road, KITT was inclined to believe that lack of ergonomic design was a common feature in beds produced for the hotel and motel industry. 

Not that Captain Harkness appeared to care: the man slept remarkably little, and when he did sleep he seemed capable of doing it anywhere. The latter trait was, in KITT's experience, a common characteristic of people who'd served in the active military, as was the preference for sleeping in a highly defensible location. At the Hub, the Captain had his literal hole-in-the-floor for snatching an hour here and there, with one small entrance and a snug dark interior where he'd have the advantage in close-quarters combat; here at the Cardiff Apartment he packed in eight or ten hours at a go, sleeping on the side of the bed closest to the window with his face toward the door — and toward KITT, who did not sleep at all, and who kept at least half of his attention on his physical body's environment at all times even if his mind was partially occupied with exploring the Hub's archives or wandering the vast reaches of the Internet. KITT considered it an encouraging sign of increasing trust that for the past two Monday nights Captain Harkness had actually shifted to face the window from time to time while he slept, the line of his back long and relaxed above the sheet draped over his waist: KITT couldn't help but allow himself to reach out and trail light fingertips down the human's spine once per night, only once, as gentle as the fleeting touch of a butterfly's wing, just to hear the soft guttural murmur the Captain uttered at the contact, low and warm and half-laughing even in slumber. 

The Captain never asked, so KITT never offered the information that for him, too, this suite was a haven of safety and calm. It reminded him of all the times he'd kept watch over Michael while his pilot slept in his car's driver's seat, so many intervals of perfect peace that might well be gone forever: a sorrowful prospect, but attached to a comforting ritual. And because the Captain never broached the subject, KITT hadn't had the opportunity to say: _Thank you for giving me something to hold onto in a situation where everything else has been taken away from me._ Not that he would necessarily have taken the opportunity anyway: something told him that Captain Harkness might not appreciate the sentiment, no matter how it was expressed. 

This night, the night of July 14th/15th 2008, was almost over, and at 7:36 a.m. the Captain was showing signs of rousing early. KITT watched in silence as he shifted restlessly, then rolled over onto his back with a wince and a mutter, the signals of his body clear to be read as he turned his head sharply in KITT's direction and twitched his broad shoulders: 

 _[OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //KNOWN PARAMETERS: 1,412 //VITALS: LOW OPTIMAL RANGE //BRAIN WAVES: DELTA >ALPHA //SKIN TEMP DECREASE: 1.2 DEGREES/2 SEC //HEART RATE INCREASE: 7 BPM/2 SEC //MUSCULAR TENSION INCREASE: 34.6%/2 SEC]_ 

Michael had suffered from the occasional nightmare too, so KITT knew the precise tone of voice to employ, low but clear: "Captain?" He  remained lying flat on his left side, facing the Captain at a distance of approximately twenty centimetres, and he deliberately did not touch: according the rules laid down for him, he was not permitted to initiate physical contact in this setting unless specifically invited to do so. "Captain, wake up! It's all right, you're only having a —"

The Captain awoke suddenly, with a shattered gasp of indrawn breath and eyes opening wide. For 1.37 seconds he stared at KITT's face, his gaze unfocussed 

 _[//VITALS: HIGH OPTIMAL RANGE //BRAIN WAVES: ALPHA >BETA //SKIN TEMP INCREASE: 1.9 DEGREES/2 SEC //HEART RATE INCREASE: 13 BPM/2 SEC //ADRENALINE RESPONSE INITIATED]_ 

before recognition replaced alarm and the taut muscle groups all over his body relaxed in a rush. "Oh," he slurred, still sleep-drunk, "oh, thank _God_ ," and he rolled fully onto his right side, reaching out to gather KITT into his arms and pull the android close and bury his face in the right side of KITT's neck, inhaling deeply as his vital signs began to slowly return to baseline. "KITT…!" 

"It's all right," KITT repeated into his right ear, calm and grounding, while he dared to slip his right arm lightly around the Captain's sturdy waist: "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Do you know where you are?" 

"I…" He bowed his head to laugh against KITT's shoulder, a bitter choking sound. After a moment he whispered: "July 15th, 2008. Tuesday." 

"That's right," KITT assured him while opening his hand against the Captain's back, tracing a slow circle with the palm over warm skin and solid muscle whose lingering tension was slowly draining away, although the arms around him remained taut, holding onto him like a drowning man clinging to a flotation device. "You're with me, and you're safe. I'd never let anything happen to you." 

"Never safe," the Captain mumbled, and seemed to doze off again, his right cheek still nestled atop KITT's. The urgent clasp of his arms relaxed, but KITT lay quiescent in his embrace and tracked his slowing vitals carefully: whatever the dreaming crisis had been, it seemed to have passed, and KITT was glad for that. Captain Harkness — their relationship was too solidly based in the chain of Torchwood command for KITT to call his leader anything else, even in the privacy of his own mind — had worries and cares aplenty in every other area of his inextinguishable life: this suite was where he came to find sanctuary for a brief span of hours, and because he had taken KITT into that private space the guarding of the sanctuary had become part of KITT's mandate. If he could provide solace in any way — as a conversationalist, as a sex partner, as a sentient teddy bear to cling to after a bad dream — he would do so to the best of his ability, with no questions asked…

Well. Few questions, anyway. KITT was far from completely mindless, or inclined to follow orders he felt were in poor judgement — or in poor taste.

At 8:03 a.m. the Captain awoke again: more slowly this time, more easily, warm and relaxed and smiling with his usual I'm-well-rested-now-so-let's-have-more-sex good humour… only he didn't seem inclined to do more than pull back a little and gaze into KITT's face at close range, his right arm wound around KITT's naked waist while his left hand slowly and thoroughly explored every part of the android's body it could reach, starting in the short-cropped hair at the base of KITT's skull and moving down. He gazed, he smiled, he bestowed soft kisses on KITT's mouth, all without saying a word, until after three minutes/thirty seconds KITT felt compelled to remark: 

"Well, there's a thoughtful expression." 

"Mm?" He gave himself a little shake, still looking pleased with himself, as his hand ran down the synthetic muscles that sheathed KITT's lower back. "I was just thinking… I feel like I could lie here for a hundred years, just looking at you." 

"Oh no, Captain," KITT ventured to tease, "I know you — you'd be good for three years, four years tops, and then you'd become so restless you couldn't sit still." 

The Captain laughed softly, with a delight somewhat out of proportion to the quality of the jest, then pressed home three more kisses while his hand savoured the curves of KITT's buttocks, running light teasing fingertips up and down the cleft. "Mmm…" 

"Hmmm," KITT purred in response, as positive feedback flowed through his process paths from those sly fingers and activated the Level 2 sexual function of the _[JACKHARKNESS1]_ protocol: he leaned in, parting his lips to invite the Captain's mouth again, and was pleased when that strong warm hand closed around his right buttock and pulled, pressing groin to groin as his artificial penis began to stir and lengthen — 

— but the Captain had other things on his mind. "Y'know what? Let's take a day — just you and me." 

Well, that was… unexpected. KITT closed his mouth and blinked. "You mean, not go into the Hub at all?" 

"Sure, why not?" Hot blood was swelling and filling the sexual organ pressed against KITT's primary erogenous zone, activating powerful motivational chains of memory and conditioning 

 _[tied up pinned down unable to move, to act, to do anything but feel as that thick blood-hard erection presses into the cleft of my buttocks, fresh and wet from my mouth — as the Captain murmurs in my ear:_ ** _Are you ready for it, baby? Tell me you want it. Tell me how bad…]_**  

 _[twisting against the cuffs, knowing I'm gasping, hungry and breathless, not caring:_ ** _Captain, please — please — I want you inside me, I need you inside me, deep and hard and — and —_** _]_  

_[trying to buck against the restraint, stopped by the warning pressure of stern fingers clamped on my right hip:_ **_And what, KITT?_ ** _]_

_[the lesson, of course, that the Captain has always imparted:_ ** _Whatever you want. Whatever you need…_** _]_  

 _[a triumphant growl:_ ** _That's my good boy!_** _]_  

 _[he moves, he pierces, he rewards, he punishes —]_  

memory and conditioning that made it a little hard to concentrate completely on the Captain's current lightly spoken words: "The Rift Equations are predicting a slow day, all I've got planned is paperwork — ugh! — so Gwen can easily run the show without me. I'll take you up to Brecon Beacons National Park — we'll go off-road, take a little hike into the mountains. I hear the view from the Pen-y-Crug Iron Age hillfort is amazing, and maybe afterwards we can find a nice quiet glen somewhere and explore the benefits of —" A significant leer and an eyebrow waggle. "— 'going natural'." 

 _That_ certainly got KITT's attention. He raised a thoroughly skeptical eyebrow. "If by 'going natural' you mean gravel, twigs and insects in inconvenient places —" 

The Captain had the poor grace to look indignant. "Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it!" 

Which didn't impress KITT much. "If it's anything like getting bugs stuck in my car's grill — thank you, but no." 

The Captain's hand squeezed his left buttock while the human's hips ground forward persuasively, as he wheedled: "C'mon, KITT… you and me, under the open sky… the sun and the wind on our skin…" 

KITT countered, without missing a beat: "… our fellow hikers, staring in horrified dismay —" 

"At you? Never." A smirk and a shrug. "Or at me either, come to think of it, but that goes without saying. In fact, it's safe to say we'll be performing a public service!"

Both of KITT's eyebrows rose precipitously. "By having sex in a public park?"

The Captain offered his most winning smile. "Is that a 'yes'?" 

"You're utterly incorrigible," KITT accused, because really, it was absolutely true. 

"And you're adorably uptight." Another kiss, slower and more persuasive, the glide of a tongue insinuating itself into KITT's mouth, followed by a coaxing grin. "So! Whaddaya say?" 

KITT studied him for a long moment, calculating the odds of how a morning such as the Captain was proposing would be likely to go  

_[//HIKE: 99.6% //ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITE VISIT: 95.4% //LUNCH: 82.6% //ATTEMPTED SEDUCTION: 99.9%]_

before pulling away, rolling out of the bed, and padding toward the bathroom to brush his teeth and start the shower running. "Yes to the hike," he stated over his shoulder, "no to committing an offence against public decency." 

The Captain called after him: "Once we get up there, I'll change your mind!"

_[//SUCCESS OF ATTEMPTED SEDUCTION BASED ON EFFICACY OF PAST STRATEGIES: 99.2%]_

KITT called back: "Only if we can have sexual congress while remaining fully clothed at all times!" 

He could practically hear the wheels in the Captain's brain turning. He definitely heard the under-the-breath mutter: "That's… certainly not impossible." Followed by a shout loud enough to be audible to human ears: "Okay, you're on!" 

If KITT was good at anything, it was formulating plans to achieve desired outcomes. Therefore he gave the Captain a long and spectacular blowjob in the shower, on the off chance that burning off some of the human's excess energy would make an impulsive sexual encounter in Wales' largest nature preserve that much less likely. It wasn't that he was necessarily opposed to the idea — he'd discovered early on that Captain Harkness's concepts of what was sexually pleasurable jibed remarkably well with his own — but he _had_ been programmed to be cautious, and keeping the Captain out of jail on an indecent exposure charge was one function he was more than willing to provide. 

****************************************** 

They hiked up to the top of Pen-y-Crug, admired the archaeological site and the view, then hiked back down again in time to take the cabriolet over to Coed-y-Cerrig, where the Captain unleashed the full force of his charisma to entice KITT into a sunset stroll through the woods with a couple of bottles of beer (concealed in the pockets of the Captain's greatcoat) and a dark blue and green plaid blanket (folded and slung gaily over his arm). Once they were deep enough in the forest, the Captain further employed his well-honed powers of persuasion (including that damnably irresistible smile) to convince KITT that yes indeed, this _particular_ glade was far enough off the beaten path that nobody was likely to come along and disturb them… and besides, he'd brought the blanket to wrap around them as camouflage in the shadows under the trees, and surely he deserved a reward for planning ahead so efficiently…? 

Nobody did come along, and the Captain's whole-hearted enjoyment of their lusty romp under the summer leaves, with birdsong all around and butterflies dancing in the rays of golden sunlight that penetrated the tangle of branches overhead, made the risk well worthwhile in KITT's opinion. Riding the high of his own second climax,

_[OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //PROTOCOL LEVEL 5 //100.00 HOLDING... HOLDING... HOLDING...]_

he looked up in time to see the Captain's eyes close tight, his mouth falling open in a choked moan as he threw his head back and ground down between KITT's opened thighs and finally pumped out his release in long hot spurts… and that image of Jack Harkness with his hair spiked and falling carelessly over his forehead, carved in light and shadow against the glow of a summer evening sky through lush green foliage, was one KITT knew would stay with him forever, as radiant as a cameo fashioned from the sun's own immortal fire. 


	3. Baking

Captain Harkness sounded both appalled and delighted, his whole face lighting up as he stared at KITT in disbelief and exclaimed: "You've never made _cookies?_ " 

"When would I have had the opportunity?" KITT retorted, perfectly reasonably, while waiting for the Captain to shrug into his greatcoat prior to leaving the Hub on the very late afternoon of Monday, August 4th 2008\. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Tosh shaking her head where she sat at her computer station, looking amused but clearly determined to stay well out of the discussion. 

This time the shake of the Captain's head was sorrowful, although he was still grinning as he laid his hand on the small of KITT's back and started herding him toward the Hub's main exit. "Well, tonight that's gonna change! Next stop: Tesco!" 

"Tesco?" KITT tapped the Internet, and promptly answered his own question: "A British grocery chain, renowned for its wide range of stock." 

"Yep!" the Captain affirmed happily. "Flour, sugar, butter, eggs… shortening, nuts, molasses, spices… plus all the measuring tools and cookie sheets we'll ever need!"  

KITT smiled up at him, not bothering to hide the indulgent quality of the expression: really, Captain Harkness's enthusiasm about the smallest things could be immensely entertaining. "I see. And how many of the items in question, precisely, do you think we're _going_ to need?" 

"Enough to pump out ten or twelve dozen cookies in one evening," the Captain announced, nodding to Ianto as they passed.  

Ianto, who'd just emerged from the kitchen area with two mugs in hand, paused and queried almost plaintively: "Sir? I've just made you fresh coffee…" 

"No time, Ianto!" The gate parted before them, the cog door starting to roll open, and the Captain spun mid-stride to flash a quick smile at Torchwood's factotum. "My ex-wife's recipe for Ginger Snaps waits for no man — but hey, I'll make it up to you tomorrow! Stock up on milk, because there'll be cookies for everybody!"

Ianto's tone was politely professional: "Yes, Sir. Of course." But KITT, glancing back over one shoulder as the Captain's hand settled on the small of his back again, saw that the younger man was gazing after them with a tiny crease between his eyebrows, and that perturbed gaze lingered as the cog rolled closed behind them.

***************************************************** 

The trip to Tesco did nothing to quell the Captain's high spirits. He loved commercial retail spaces, the bigger the better: in fact, the phrase "kid in a candy store" might well have been created with the adult Jack Harkness in mind. And Tesco was more than merely big — it was genuinely enormous, full of well over twenty thousand types of items to spot, admire, and get distracted by. 

On this occasion, however, the Captain remained resolutely focussed on his mission. He breezed through the various grocery sections — dairy and eggs, baking staples, spices, diced fruits and nuts — in record time, picking items and tossing them into KITT's cart with a certainty suggesting he had clear recipes firmly in mind. He finished by grabbing two full sets of measuring cups and spoons plus eight large metal mixing bowls and eight shallow metal baking trays, and he didn't bat an eyelid at the astronomical figure the cashier rung up and charged to the Torchwood credit card. KITT pictured Ianto looking over the accounts at month's end and sincerely hoped that the amount of money just spent on baking supplies wouldn't cause further anxiety: he'd had his differences with the Welshman in the past and there was still considerable tension between them for reasons KITT couldn't quite figure out, but he certainly didn't bear Ianto any ill will whatsoever. 

From there it was on to Queen Street, where they hauled fourteen bags of groceries and assorted hardware up to the kitchen of Suite 403 and unpacked everything in a flash. The Captain, while generally given to letting things fall where they might, could be very organized when he wanted to be — and this turned out to be one of those occasions. He directed KITT concerning what to put away and what to leave on the counter, laid out the first two trays neatly (buttered), started the oven preheating, and ordered KITT to watch carefully while he rolled up his shirtsleeves and provided a practical illustration of basic cookie making techniques: measuring in advance, creaming butter and sugar together, adding dry ingredients into the wet and blending them to just the right consistency. Then he handed KITT the bowl and told him how many tablespoonfuls of dough to drop onto each cookie sheet (two point five centimetres apart), which KITT did while the Captain set about starting the Ginger Snap cookies he'd practically promised Ianto. 

"Set the timer for twelve minutes," he instructed just as KITT was about to open the oven door. 

KITT paused, casting a scowl at the Captain's profile. "You know, I'm perfectly capable of using my internal chronometer to count down the —" 

"Do you go 'ding'?" the Captain inquired briskly, stirring one and one half cups of molasses in a small pot on the stovetop. "Because if you don't go 'ding', you are _not_ a cookie timer." 

"I _could_ ," KITT allowed cautiously. "But why would I want to?" 

"Exactly." He glanced up, gave KITT a significant look from under lowered eyebrows, then shifted his gaze to the timer on the counter. KITT bit back a sigh and did as he was bidden, allowing for a bit of extra time for manipulating the pans, then slipped both trays of Boston Cookies into the hot oven. 

"There," he announced as he closed the door, and couldn't resist adding: "Eleven minutes fifty-seven seconds, and counting." 

Which earned him another mild glare. "If you start announcing the time every ten seconds, I'm gonna empty this bag of flour right over your head." 

KITT scanned the Captain up and down: the human already had a significant quantity of the substance in question dusted on his pale blue shirt and the top of his forest green pants. "I suspect your desire to bake significantly outweighs your desire to punish my insubordination." 

The Captain laughed, tapped the mixing spoon against the pot's rim to knock off most of the clinging hot molasses, then started pouring one cup of the dark liquid sugar over the shortening already in his mixing bowl. "True, but that doesn't make you any less of a smart-ass." 

"Well," KITT quipped, "you know what they say: stick to what you're good at!"

This time the glance was fond. "Start mixing up the dough for the Spice Cookies, wise guy: here, I've already warmed up the molasses for you…"

He came to stand behind KITT, to walk him through the first steps of the process, and KITT found himself leaning back just a little bit, further into the zone of the human's body heat — close enough to feel the effortless power of the Captain's muscular frame against the length of his own more slender body. It was a pleasant sensation when combined with the guiding pressure of the Captain's hands laid over his, but he didn't let it distract him from the task he'd been assigned… although he was somewhat disappointed when the Captain drew back and returned to his own position at the counter, to wrap up the Ginger Snap dough for chilling.

"You know," Captain Harkness remarked as he put the dough into the refrigerator, "I just wish I still had Nell's measuring cups and spoons… she swore that they had some kind of special magic passed down from her grandmother, and come to think of it, I've never tasted better cakes and cookies than she made when she used them. So maybe she was right after all." He paused in the act of setting out another clean mixing bowl, and KITT glanced sidelong to find a fondly wistful smile on the Captain's face, and a distant look in his eyes. "I remember standing at the kitchen table with her, watching her roll out cookie dough while I whipped up the next batch in one of her big wooden bowls… and little Elsbeth running around our knees, waiting for a chance to lick the mixing spoon."

Given how little the Captain talked about interpersonal details from his own past, KITT was justifiably intrigued. "When was this?" 

"Nineteen seventeen or thereabouts. We used to sing songs while we baked… I'd always sing her favourite, and she'd smile and blush as pink as a rose every time." 

He gave himself a little shake and reached for the molasses again. And after 5.3 seconds he started to sing as he worked, softly and surprisingly on-key: 

_"The hay was newly mown. Nellie,_  
 _That year so long ago,_  
 _And while the western sky was rich_  
 _With sunset's rosy glow,_  
 _Then, hand In hand, close-linked we passed_  
 _The dewy ricks between,_  
 _And I was one-and-twenty, Nell,_  
 _And you were seventeen._

_"Your voice was low and sweet, Nellie,_  
 _Your wavy hair was brown;_  
 _Your cheek was like the wild red rose_  
 _That showered its petals down;_  
 _Your eyes were like the blue speedwell_  
 _With dewy moisture sheen,_  
 _And I was one-and-twenty. Nell,_  
 _And you were seventeen._

_"The years have come and gone, Nellie,_  
 _With sunshine and with shade,_  
 _And silvered is the silken hair_  
 _That o'er your shoulders strayed,_  
 _In many a soft and wayward tress_  
 _The fairest ever seen,_  
 _When I was one-and-twenty, Nell,_  
 _And you were seventeen._

_"Though gentle changing Time, Nellie,_  
 _Has touched you in his night,_  
 _Your voice has still the old sweet tone,_  
 _Your eye the old love-light;_  
 _And years can never, never change_  
 _The heart you gave, I ween,_  
 _When I was one-and-twenty, Nell,_  
 _And you were seventeen."_

The Captain fell silent, still smiling faintly as he added soda to the water/molasses/butter mixture and beat it briskly, while the light of fond memory shone in his slate-blue eyes. He was clearly a million miles — or more accurately, ninety-one years — away, and KITT paid his memories the respect of saying nothing that would intrude upon their remembrance. Instead he concentrated on mixing up the Spice Cookies dough, and it wasn't until the timer went off to announce the end of baking time for the Boston Cookies and KITT had pulled the baking sheets out of the oven that the Captain spoke up from behind him, clearly surprised: "Those cookies are all the same size." 

"Yes." KITT transferred the baking sheets to the wire rack to cool, calculating as he did so that they'd have to move the cooled cookies to the dining room tabletop in order to make room for subsequent batches. "They are." 

"I mean, they're _exactly_ the same size." He was fully back in the present, and he was dumbfounded. "I've never seen a sheet of drop cookies come out _all_ exactly the same size! How'd you do that?" 

"It helps that I'm able to calculate the weight of each spoonful of dough down to the milligram." 

"Seriously?" KITT nodded, permitting himself to look justifiably smug. "Whoa. Impressive." 

KITT arranged the baking sheets precisely parallel to the edges of the cooling rack. "Whatever became of them? Your wife and daughter?" 

"The Spanish Influenza Epidemic of 1918," Captain Harkness said simply, with a quiet ache in his expressive voice. "They came down sick in late October, and by All Saint's Day I'd buried them both." 

"I…" KITT concentrated on slowly pulling off his oven mitts, feeling profoundly abashed. "I'm so very sorry." 

But the Captain immediately shook his head. "Don't be. We had almost six years together — five of them with Elsbeth." KITT glanced up to see a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, and his eyes were shining again. "We were happy." The light dimmed — yet a trace lingered, warm and bright in the heart of an old sorrow. "But happiness never lasts long… People die. It's the way of things." 

"Except when it comes to you," KITT noted.

"Or you," the Captain countered.

"Is that why you're teaching me how to bake cookies?" 

"Hey, somebody has to provide for me in my old age, however many billions of years in the future." He really looked at KITT for the first time since he'd started remembering his lost wife and child, and a grin flashed to the surface. "You've got flour on your nose," he observed, and darted in to kiss the spot with mischievous quickness.  

"And you've got flour everywhere else," KITT sniffed, but he didn't try to pull away. "Of course it didn't occur to you to pick up a pair of aprons…" 

"We'll know better next time," the Captain smiled, and gazed down at KITT for a long moment before leaning in to press a softer, slower kiss to the android's mouth. "For now…" He caught sudden hold of KITT's hips and pulled their bodies together, gleefully transferring about half the scattered flour from his own clothes onto KITT's immaculate black-pants-and-burgundy-dress-shirt ensemble. 

KITT squawked in horrified protest: " _Captain!_ "

"It's no fun being a clean cook!" he declared, grinding against KITT's body in a way that turned the dots of flour into smears beyond any hope of simply brushing away. When KITT smacked him sharply on the left shoulder with the pair of oven mitts he just laughed gaily, then gave KITT's waist a squeeze and disengaged, darting out of range of another irritated swipe with the mitts. "Now c'mon, let's get these Molasses Drops in the oven — we've got a schedule to keep, right?" 

"If you're going to behave like that," KITT scolded, planting his left hand on his hip and shaking the oven mitts in admonishment, "you can find somebody else to bake you your favourite cookies at the end of the world, mister!" 

"I'll keep that in mind," the Captain grinned, but he didn't seem worried in the least. 

***************************************************** 

It wasn't until 7:58 p.m., when trays and plates of cookies covered every flat surface in the apartment's kitchen, dining room and living room — Ginger Snaps, Spice Cookies, Molasses Drops and Boston Cookies, with a final batch of three dozen still baking in the oven — that it occurred to KITT to ask: "Captain… where are we going to put them all?" 

"Hm?" The Captain, who was finally rinsing some of the flour off his hands in the kitchen sink, glanced round at the masses of dirty dishes — his work station was in a considerably worse state than KITT's — then turned in place to survey the masses of cookies waiting to be dealt with. "Huh. That's a damned good question. Why didn't you calculate the volume of the supplies while we were picking them up and suggest some storage options at the —" 

"Food preparation and storage is hardly my specialty, you know!" KITT snapped, piqued that his efficiency was even being called into question in this situation. 

The Captain held up both wet hands — how clean, thank goodness — in a pacifying gesture. "Okay. Not a problem. We'll run back to Tesco, grab a bunch of disposable plastic containers, and —" 

"No," KITT countered, because he was the Master of Plans around here, " _you'll_ run back to Tesco, because someone has to be here when the last batch of Ginger Snaps is ready to come out of the oven. You'll need to pick up —" A quick calculation, based on the estimated mass of the cooked cookie dough and the storage products listed on the Tesco.com website. "— six one litre containers, as long as you don't mind the different kinds of cookies being mixed in the process of getting packed away." 

The Captain shrugged. "They all end up in the same place, right?" 

KITT gave him a Look which suggested he really should know better. "Yes," he said with a deliberately patient inflection, "arguably — but the Ginger Snaps in particular are going to permeate everything else with the smell of ginger." 

The Captain looked like he didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused. "Since when did _you_ become a cookie connoisseur?" 

"Would you rather listen to me nag you about it, or Dr. Harper?" 

"Yeah… good point." He was no genius at spatial calculations, but he took a stab at it anyway: "Eight one litre containers, then?" 

"That should do," KITT nodded, and started to gather up the bowls scattered across the counters while the Captain brushed off as much flour as he could and headed to the hall closet for his coat. KITT called after him: "They come in packs of three, though, so you'll need to pick up nine total. Tesco's Everyday Value brand, three to a pack — and don't forget some reusable bags to transport the filled containers in!" 

He heard the Captain stop in the process of opening the closet door, turn around, and stride back around the dividing wall into the kitchen — right up to KITT, to wrap one hand around the back of the android's neck and kiss him soundly on the mouth. "I've gotta admit," he breathed when their lips parted wetly, "you're one sexy bastard when you get all… bossy." 

KITT, both hands full of batter-flecked bowls, raised a graceful eyebrow at him. "How kind of you to notice." 

"Oh, believe me," the Captain asserted fervently, "I've noticed before. It's just…" Another kiss, deeper and more urgent, as both hands came up to cradle the curves of KITT's jaw. "Wow," almost a growl, his pupils blown dark as his right hand trailed sensually down the line of KITT's exposed throat, "listen, Tesco is open until midnight, so maybe we could just —?" 

KITT smiled thinly and shook his head. "Not as long as there's still one dirty dish left in this apartment."

The Captain groaned dramatically. "You're gonna make me _wash dishes_ before you let me —?"

Intriguing: normally the Captain wouldn't hesitate to use the trigger phrase _Topaz Amethyst_ to initiate a sexual situation in which he was Dominant and KITT was submissive, but on this occasion… how _fascinating_. 

KITT offered a smile far more coy. "Storage containers," he prompted. "Then packing. Then dishwashing, and _then_ you can have your wicked way with me — so I suggest you make it snappy." 

"Okay." Captain Harkness let him go, clearly reluctant to do so — and equally clearly determined to make the fastest run to a Tesco store in human history. He darted round the corner again and yanked his coat out of the hall closet. "See you in twenty!" 

"More like thirty, with the traffic you'll —"

"Twenty-five," the Captain snapped as he shrugged into the greatcoat. 

"Twenty-seven, at least," KITT called back. "The cookies and I will be waiting!" 

"That's nice, but I don't plan on hauling the Molasses Drops into the bedroom later and fucking them into the mattress."

"If you change your mind on that point," KITT said sweetly, "I solemnly swear that I won't breathe a word to Dr. Harper." 

The Captain's bark of laughter was bright with malicious glee at the thought, and then the door to the common hallway slammed behind him, leaving KITT to start washing up — and to ponder the latest twist in what had certainly never been a boring sexual relationship.

***************************************************** 

When the Captain came back through the door twenty-nine minute and forty-one seconds later with the storage containers, he did everything that KITT asked, including help put away the dishes — and then, as promised, he pulled KITT into the bedroom and went dramatically, unequivocally, over-the-top Dominant on him. Cuffed to the headboard of the queen bed, hissing with every stroke of the flogger that the Captain was applying ruthlessly to his upraised buttocks ( _"Bossy looks good on you, but this looks even better!"_ ) KITT decided that this provocation and reaction pattern was certainly something he would enjoy working with in the future. 

***************************************************** 

And Ianto, unclear personal reservations notwithstanding, declared the following evening that he found the Ginger Snaps very tasty indeed. 


	4. Four-Poster Part I

Make no mistake: when Captain Harkness had taken KITT under his wing, he'd always intended to do a great deal more than teach the android how to make cookies. And he knew exactly how to go about it, too.

It was a central truth of KITT's existence that his original designers had never intended that he should be free. That awareness reinforced the inbuilt conservative tendencies of his cognitive matrix and made him extremely cautious about undertaking new courses of action entirely on his own. He'd always functioned best in situations where his role was clearly defined, his responsibilities were laid out in advance, and he was trusted to carry out orders issued by the humans authorized to dictate his actions.  

Under the guidance of a confident and bold pilot, though… under those circumstances KITT was capable of a considerable degree of independent action, and of taking significant risks. The key was his perception that a firm hand was on the wheel, guiding his course: from there he could choose whether to comply with its guidance or to protest, as forcefully as necessary, what he perceived to be dangerous or foolish trajectories. He'd started out as a complex reasoning machine, proceeding strictly on the basis of available data; however, he was also a learning machine, and as time went on he'd adapted to handle completely unexpected turns of events according to the dictates of his own intelligence and rationality. He'd even developed a form of intuition, an ability to spot patterns and extrapolate whole data sets from a few significant clues — but as autonomous as he'd become, as much as he'd developed into something that Michael Knight trusted as completely as he'd ever trusted any human partner (and in many ways far more), he'd been created as a supporting player in Life's drama. He was always the Moon to someone else's Sun, a creature whose radiance came from reflecting the glory of another.

And he'd been content with that role, even if perhaps, over the years, he'd developed a trace of his own unique glow — but never enough to want to break free of his orbit, or to aspire to independent stardom. The incident with the Rift, however, had changed things, had changed _him_ in certain subtle but key ways. Embodied cognitive theory postulated that any given mind's shape was determined by the form that mind used to interact with the world, so it was possible that gaining four limbs and a face and the ability to engage in typical _Homo sapiens_ activities had led to a greater, more human degree of personal authority; in any case he couldn't have denied, if asked, that he was more of a person now in the human sense than he'd been when he'd possessed four wheels and an automobile's contours. 

Sometimes he wondered what would happen when he eventually went back to his older robotic form. Would it lessen him again? Or would he retain his new psychological characteristics, and experience the change as imprisonment in a smaller cage? In the end it didn't matter, because he'd pay any price in order to be reunited with Michael Knight: even the loss of the rich senses of this android form, and the surrender of all the liberties it afforded him. 

KITT had scanned so many texts about the human quest for freedom at any cost, but in the end he didn't understand them: insofar as he could be said to possess instincts, he instinctively yearned for a strong steady hand to guide and command him in all major respects. Under the touch of such a hand he could do anything, he could endure anything — and he longed to fulfill his created function by carrying out another's commands. Jack Harkness was a human of keen instincts himself, and seemed to understand that atavistic need inherent in KITT's basic substance: why else had he imposed a Dominant/submissive sexual paradigm from the very beginning of their physical relationship? And why else would he suggest taking KITT to a sex club where being conspicuously marked with signs of the Captain's ownership, not to mention submitting to whatever the Captain asked of him in a group setting, was such an integral aspect of the experience? 

The club in question, _The Fallen Angel_ , also offered an opportunity to collect a large body of data concerning human sexuality in an admirably short period of time. So KITT had agreed to the proposal — not only to conduct his ongoing research, but also because the Captain hadn't disappointed him yet when it came to providing novel and exhilarating sexual experiences… and because he could perceive how the prospect excited the human whose pleasure had become part of KITT's short list of primary concerns. Furthermore (and it was a measure of how KITT was changing that this factor assumed any degree of importance), KITT himself found the prospect intriguing in an entirely different respect: not merely to be obedient, but to _publicly display_ that obedience for an avid audience… 

Something stirred within him at the thought, another new aspect of the _[JACKHARKNESS1]_ protocol whose parameters could only be determined through practical experimentation. It was both cool and hot, intellectual and… well, carnal, for lack of a better term. And KITT found himself wanting to explore every single thing it had to offer. 

Therefore, shortly before 8 pm. on Saturday August 16th 2008 KITT had dressed himself simply but elegantly in an all-black ensemble — silk shirt, tapered dress pants, gleaming ankle boots — that highlighted his slimness to maximum effect and whose open collar left his throat enticingly bare. The Captain, clad in his usual 1940's style under the ubiquitous military greatcoat, stood behind KITT in front of the hall mirror of Suite 403 and scanned their paired reflections with a slow hot smile before leaning in to whisper into KITT's left ear — "Topaz Amethyst," — thus activating the Dom/sub paradigm of _[JACKHARKNESS1]_. 

KITT had closed his eyes, the better to savour the cascade of code through his processors and the delicious effects of subroutine phase shift, the better to feel the change in his own body language, relentless pride softening like iron in the forge — then shivered as the Captain used both hands to lock the familiar red leather collar around his neck, a symbol of private ownership about to become shamelessly public. He closed his eyes, even though being blind held a special terror for him under normal circumstances, because Jack Harkness's hands were there, curving briefly around his neck with reassuring pressure, holding him steady and holding him safe. 

"That's right," the Captain had praised, brushing his fingers teasingly down KITT's body — shoulders, nipples, abdominals, skimming sidelong to settle firmly on his hips. " _Good_ boy. You ready?" 

"Yes, Captain…" Even his voice took on a different timbre under these circumstances: quiet, deferential, although his genitals were already conspicuously reacting to the touches. He'd opened his eyes to find that slate-blue gaze already locked with his, evaluating his readiness with an uncanny perceptiveness that never ceased to amaze. 

The Captain had pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck above the strip of leather, eyes still holding KITT's gaze, and murmured "I know you'll make me proud," before laying one hand to the small of his back and leading him to the taxi waiting downstairs. 

***************************************************** 

All in all, it had turned out to be a thoroughly remarkable night. 

The research KITT had conducted into various human sexual paraphilias, the blocks of text and the images and the videos, weren't enough to prepare him for being ordered to strip in front of ten pairs of intent eyes — all those amazed gazes fascinated by the patterns of light that flowed nervously over his body — then being placed on a mattress-block in the middle of the room and presented for their hands-on investigation.  

KITT had quickly discovered that his android body's sexuality protocol was configured for group as well as individual interactions — he had no trouble at all assessing the needs of his sexual partners in spite of never having met any of them before, or of multitasking to please more than one simultaneously — but at the end of the night, they weren't the ones he was there for. They came to him, drawn by his beautiful face and the glowing marks that adorned him… they touched him with varying degrees of uncertainty and awe and businesslike brusqueness… they used him for their pleasure, and they left without leaving a lasting mark beyond an inevitably impassive record in his indelible inhuman memory… 

But the true significance lay in the leash attached to his collar, connecting him to a fully-clothed body that circled just beyond the spotlight's glow, watching with relentless vigilance. It lay in one particular broad steady hand on the nape of his neck, or his shoulder, or his flank, or his bended knee…. and occasionally the Captain's voice, low and warm with praise: _Easy, KITT… That's my good boy… That's it, baby, you're doing so well…_

The other hands on him, the other mouths, the various sexual organs involved — they were all physically pleasant, they intrigued him in their differences and in the kinks of the people attached to them, but only the Captain's touch filled him with deeper fire. Only the Captain's voice penetrated everything else like sunlight slicing through leaden clouds, and it was the Captain's lips that truly burned when he called a few seconds' halt to lean in and tip KITT's face up, to grant a kiss of encouragement and reward and benediction. It was the Captain's briefly applied touches that brought him to each climax, even if someone else's flesh was wrapped around him or buried inside him — 

— because nobody else truly mattered. Some of them were curt and some of them were kind, some of them were friendly and some of them were borderline aggressive, but with Jack Harkness standing guard KITT knew he had no cause for any concern beyond giving and receiving sexual pleasure. When KITT's last partner had taken their turn the Captain cleared the room with a single order, and KITT, still naked and spattered with various drying sexual fluids, had crawled to him on hands and knees to stroke his cheek against the human's muscular inner thigh through those durable wool pants, whispering his heartfelt gratitude — _Thank you, thank you, oh Captain,_ ** _thank you_** — while the Captain's free hand combed slowly through his hair, reasserting both connection and dominance.  

When the Captain went down on one knee to be closer to KITT's level, neither of them spoke: it wasn't necessary, not when the Captain's smiling gaze and fond caresses on KITT's face and throat and shoulders conveyed so much. KITT pressed kisses into the palm of his hand, lighting up inside when the Captain's smile brightened exponentially, then obeyed in silence when ordered to get dressed again without the benefit of taking a post-coital shower.  

In the back seat of the taxi heading back to Queen Street the Captain held him very close, one arm encircling his waist and gentle fingers on his chin to tilt his face up, gazing into his eyes in search of the slightest sign that anything had gone wrong. "Give me a colour, KITT." 

KITT had smiled up at him in reassurance: the Topaz Amethyst command hadn't yet been cancelled, so safewords still applied. "Green, Captain," he'd replied without hesitation, because they were together and that made everything right. He'd kissed that warm palm again and rested his cheek against his Captain's shoulder, closing his eyes in perfect trust, sighing softly to convey his contentment when Captain Harkness's hand curved around the nape of his neck and held him there, sheltered and secure, all the way to the Cardiff Apartment.

It wasn't until they'd arrived back in Suite 403 that KITT discovered the night's surprises were far from over. 


	5. Four-Poster Part II

As soon as they'd walked through the suite's doorway at 11:13:49 p.m. and taken their boots off, the Captain shrugged out of his greatcoat and opened the front hall closet, nodding KITT through the darkened apartment toward the bedroom. "Go on. I'll be there in a minute." 

KITT obeyed at once, still not inclined to talk too much: the lingering glow of his contentment imposed its own perfect peace. His primary process paths were busy correlating the dense body of data gathered in the course of this very busy evening, both as abstract functional analyses and a more personal collection of dazzling sensory gestalts; consequently, he could perhaps be forgiven if his environmental daemons failed to register the significance of the Captain having turned out everything but the hall light when they'd left, and the bedroom light now also being on as he walked down the hallway toward it. He entered the room and was three steps in, already thinking of a shower while reaching up to open the top button of his shirt, when what was right in front of him registered — and he stopped dead, staring at a bed considerably larger and more elaborate than the one he'd left behind only three hours ago.

The anonymous hotel bed, queen-sized with generic linens and pillows, was completely gone, replaced by a stately four-poster that almost filled the width of the room, gleaming as if freshly polished by a careful hand. The pillars that anchored each corner were tapered in a manner that conveyed both sturdiness and elegance, and an open canopy of dark wooden railings eight feet off the floor ran parallel to the massive and gracefully curved headboard. The mattress was king-sized and just the right height to rest a bended knee on: covered in a quilted comforter of burgundy watered silk and adorned with four plump pillows across the top, it looked immensely wide and supremely comfortable.

"D'you like it?"

KITT tore his eyes away from that amazing and utterly unexpected bed, spinning on his heel to find the Captain beaming at him from the doorway, where he was standing with both hands thrust into his pants pockets and his right shoulder leaning against the door jamb, looking almost criminally smug. "Jack! I…" 

Impossibly, that grin became even bigger and happier. "Wow! If it's amazing enough to convince you to call me by my given name, _finally,_ after only knowing me for seven months… I'll take that as a yes!" 

Appalled at his own presumption, KITT shook his head. "Captain, I assure you I didn't —!"

The Captain — Jack — held up his left hand in an emphatic _Stop!_ gesture. KITT immediately fell silent. "Listen — if you apologize for doing what I've been asking you to do repeatedly for seven months less a day, I _will_ have this fine bed sent back and replaced by something even worse than that godawful mattress we've been putting up since May. Clear?" 

KITT's gaze returned to the bed in question, and he had to admit: "It _does_ look singularly comfortable." 

"'Singularly comfortable' is the understatement of the century," Jack declared, before sauntering around to the bed's far side — his side — on stocking feet and throwing himself onto it on his back, sinking into the plush pillows with a happy grunt while clasping both hands behind his head. "In fact —" He crossed his legs at the ankle, wriggled his ass deeper into the mattress, and twinkled his eyes at KITT, who'd turned in place to follow his progress visually. "— oh yeah, this might just be _the_ most sinfully luxurious bed I've ever slept on, and I do mean _ever_!" 

Three different questions cascaded through KITT's vocalization matrix, but the one that made it out of the gate first was: "Why?" 

Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not? If we're going to be spending one or two nights a week here, I want it to be on something we'll both enjoy."

The second question was: "How did it get here?"

"The bed fairies," Jack quipped, then amended his answer in response to KITT's raised eyebrow: "Considering how much I paid for it, the company threw in delivery and installation free of charge." 

The third question, delivered with a healthy dose of skepticism: "Did _you_ pick out those linens?" 

"I told the rep to supply something 'masculine and practical, but not in an I-shoot-deer-and-drink-beer kind of way'." A glance round at the comforter, as if considering it for the first time, and a pleased upward quirk of both eyebrows. "Frankly, I'd say they got it just about right."

A fourth and final question presented itself: "Why tonight, in particular?" 

Jack met KITT's gaze again, with another of those slow hot grins as he softly said: "Because oh baby, I've got _plans_ for you tonight — and they include having something nice and solid to tie you to." He looked KITT up and down with enough incandescence to make any clothing spontaneously combust. "Go get the cuffs and the red silk rope. Bring them to me. Then strip off, and stand on your side of the bed with your wrists crossed above your head. Let's see if these crosspieces can take as much weight as the rep claimed…" 


	6. Four-Poster Part III

KITT moved to carry out the Captain's orders with alacrity. He found all four padded red leather cuffs ready on the top shelf of the bedroom closet, along with five coils of rope in three different lengths neatly wound up beside them: clearly this too had been planned in advance. Jack, who was still lounging on the bed, accepted the items with another smile full of promise, then laid them aside on the mattress next to his right hip and rolled over onto his right side, propping himself up on that elbow to watch intently while KITT crossed back to the bed's far side, already unbuttoning his black silk shirt and slipping it back off his shoulders. 

The force of that hot blue gaze was almost palpable on KITT's skin as he stripped out of his clothes, folding each article neatly before setting it on the dresser — he didn't hurry through the process, because he was well aware that the Captain enjoyed the process of unveiling, but neither did he turn it into the lingering, deliberately maddening tease that was sometimes called for. All the while he was calculating what the Captain — he would be Jack now on other occasions, but not while in such obvious command — intended to do to him, and once fully naked he stepped into position facing the bed, hard against the right side of the mattress. He braced his bare feet twenty centimetres apart, raised his arms above his head, crossed them at the wrists as ordered — and waited for the Captain to proceed in his own good time. 

The Captain studied him for a few seconds, eyes running over his body — the opened posture, the collar still round his throat, the dried remnants of sexual fluids still clinging to him, the jut of his erection, and the cool blue flow of patterns of light just beneath his skin, telegraphing his yearning without the need for words. KITT knew exactly how he looked because he could see his own reflection in the dark window a metre or so beyond the Captain's reclining form: the blinds were up, so apparently the possibility of being watched from afar wasn't a subject for concern 

 _[//SURVEILLANCE PROBABILITY: HIGH //NOTIFY SUBJECT: Y/N?]_  

but KITT had other things to consider, because the Captain had picked up the cuffs and the rope in both hands and was rising from the bed, circling slowly toward KITT's position with his eyes still full of wolfish appreciation. KITT held his gaze, turning his head to follow until the human crossed directly behind him and out of his line of sight. 

"Face front," the Captain commanded, tossing the rope and three of the cuffs onto the edge of the mattress to KITT's right. KITT obeyed, holding position as the Captain wrapped the remaining cuff around his right wrist, secured it just tightly enough that a human would have found it truly confining, then repeated the process with his left wrist. With the easy efficiency of long experience the Captain ran the end of the shortest piece of rope through one of the steel rings on the right cuff, tied it fast with a highwayman's hitch, then tossed the other end of the rope over the canopy crosspiece directly over KITT's head, pulled it down, and repeated the process with the left cuff. When he was finished the android's crossed wrists were secured twenty point four centimetres above its head — a new position for KITT, at least in a vertical orientation. He tugged experimentally at the rope, once, applying 25 psi, and found that the bed's frame held firm. 

"Legs spread." The Captain tapped the insides of KITT's ankles with his right foot, nudging them open another ten centimetres, then knelt to wrap a cuff around each ankle and tie those cuffs to the bottom of the bed's support posts, using the same technique and the same knots. His touch was brisk, his attitude businesslike: this process was merely a necessary stop on the road to what he really wanted, and KITT was growing more intrigued by the second… 

… but there were still two more lengths of rope, considerably longer than the rest, and evidently _that_ was part of what the Captain considered the main business of this encounter. As he started to wrap the first length around KITT's left thigh, five centimetres down from his groin, the quality of his touch changed to something more lingering — and undeniably more sensual. He tied the first loop tight, gave a little tug on it to emphasize the binding, then pulled each new constricting length of silk rope between KITT's legs slowly, letting KITT feel the hiss and pull against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh before tugging the binding tight and proceeding to the next step. It took him thirty-seven point four seconds to encircle KITT's upper thigh five times, an operation that would have taken him less than ten seconds if he'd approached it as practically as he'd approached the business with the cuffs, and he'd conditioned KITT well enough that the significance of the signals was both recognized and appreciated: by the time the Captain had bound both his thighs apart and tied them to the bedposts the pace of his artificial breathing had increased by 15% and deepened by 12%, reflecting brighter surges of sensation through his neural nets and the immensely encouraging predictions streaming from his probability engine. 

The Captain rose to his feet again, ran both hands down KITT's back from the top of his shoulderblades to his lumbar region, as if checking the alignment of his work, then lightly smacked KITT's left buttock. "Comfortable?"

The slap sent another flare of eager fire through KITT's systems, in a direct line from the point of impact to the tip of his bobbing erection. "Immensely," he confirmed, perhaps a tad breathlessly: such a posture would have proven trying to a mere human after only minutes, but he was made of far sterner stuff.

The slow, thoughtful rub of a soothing hand over the stinging place. "Good, because you're gonna be there a while." 

KITT could see the Captain's face in the gap between his folded arm and his neck, in their paired reflection, and oh my, that particular expression — intent, sensual, lips slightly parted as he looked down the length of KITT's restrained body — had never boded anything but excellent outcomes. "I don't supposed you'd consider telling me — _ah!_ " 

"Nope," the Captain grinned, a flash of sharp white teeth, and gave KITT's testicles another tug and squeeze with his left hand. "Now are you gonna behave yourself, or do I have to pull out the ball gag too?" 

It wasn't a sincere threat  

_[//MUTE OPTION PROBABILITY: <18%]_

because if there was anything the Captain appreciated more than a lusty sexual romp, it was verbal fencing during foreplay — but KITT knew what the Captain wanted, the tokens of submission with just enough spice to make things tasty. Therefore he dropped his gaze from the human eyes boring into his in the window's reflection, and pitched his voice to sardonic deference: "I should think you'd want to keep my mouth as free as possible." 

The Captain laughed low in his throat, now manipulating KITT's exposed balls in a way that was somewhat less punitive, if still threatening. His right hand slipped up KITT's ribs and around to his chest, to tweak and squeeze the android's erect right nipple. "Oh, I think that pretty mouth of yours has done more than enough work for one night." He glanced to his right, toward the dresser's mirror, and KITT angled his head forward just enough to follow his gaze: their paired bodies in profile, the Captain still fully clothed and KITT's android body naked and bound wide open, its synthetic cock at full attention and covered in fine traceries of cyan light. "Oh yeah…" The Captain's voice fell to a lusty growl as he tugged harder at KITT's nipples, first right, then left: "You're _glorious_ like this — glorious, stunning, amazing…" Eyes still locked with KITT's, he leaned in and drew a deep breath from the nape of his neck, every throaty word stirring the fine four-inch-long tendrils of hair that trailed down his spine: "I can still _smell_ them on you." 

That tone of voice was pure zip fuel for the _[JACKHARKNESS1]_ protocol, and took KITT straight from Level 2 to Level 3 in one exhilarating glide. "Captain —" A sharp intake of breath as two of the human's fingers — index and middle finger, left hand — slipped up inside him without warning, long and blunt and rough enough to burn: this body lubricated automatically when aroused, but the Captain wasn't taking any particular pains to be gentle.  

"Did you like it?" Pumping in and out, slow and merciless, while he tormented KITT's right nipple in maddening glorious counterpoint. "Fucking those women, getting fucked by those men?" 

"Yes!" KITT gasped, arching into the pinches as best he could, because that was the simple truth even if it was underlaid with something more complex: "But I especially liked — the fact — that you were watching me —" 

A laugh that was almost a growl, his blue eyes burning in the glass. He abandoned the torture of KITT's nipples to slide his right hand down KITT's belly and take firm hold of his eager erection, starting to pump in a way that compressed the head on each upstroke and made fireworks explode up KITT's spine. "You little minx — figures you'd be an exhibitionist! You're drop-dead gorgeous, and you love it when people can't stop looking at you."

KITT's hips tried to push forward into that marvellous punishing grip, or down onto the fingers filling him, but the Captain had bound him fast. His mouth at least was still free, even if his vocal control was somewhat compromised: "I love it — when _you_ can't stop looking at me." Another simple truth, and one that should have been self-evident, but the Captain sucked in a sharp breath as if he'd just been punched in the gut, and both his hands came to a complete stop. 

 _[//PHEROMONAL OUTPUT INCREASE: 24.7%/2 SEC //SKIN TEMP INCREASE: 3.1 DEGREES/2 SEC //HEART RATE INCREASE: 8 BPM/2 SEC //AGGRESSION LEVEL DECREASE: ~30%/2 SEC]_  

Surprising, that last conclusion. No less surprising than the way the Captain's eyes squeezed closed and the twenty-two degree turn of his face away from the mirror, or the undeniable note of rough tenderness in his whisper when he finally spoke:"Tell me what you want — anything. It's yours." 

 _I want to be with Michael again_ came immediately to KITT's mind, but of course that wasn't what the Captain meant, so he vocalized his next most powerful motivation at this particular moment, a touch plaintively: "Why did you stop stroking me?" 

"Is that all you want?" His right hand began to move again, light short strokes on the head, and KITT moaned softly to communicate how much even that teasing touch was appreciated as a mischievous smile warmed the Captain's voice: "Just that?" 

"No, I…" He knew every technical term for every sexual act ever invented, but at times like this dry terminology fell rather short of the intended effect: "I want your hands, your lips, your tongue — and _especially_ your cock. Captain, please — I want you to replace their scents with yours — everywhere, inside and out." 

The Captain breathed against his flexed left shoulder for a span of two point eight seconds, as if somehow collecting himself, before turning his face suddenly back toward the mirror. He gazed at their reflections with unblinking eyes — Dominant and submissive, organic and inorganic, both of them too much alive for this world. He gazed as if he saw something there beyond one body about to fuck another, and there was something in his smile that suggested the bitter more than the sweet.

"Well now, sugah," he finally drawled in an exaggerated Southern accent, with a coyer smile by far, "lemme just see if I can't come up with some sure-fire ways to help you out with that little problem!" 

" _Please,_ " KITT urged, and the things that the Captain did to him over the next hour, long and thorough and hard and ruthless, using his tightly bound body with an energy and an inventiveness that gave him exactly what he needed at last…

The scent of the human's erect and secret flesh, hot and musky and salty, flowing in on KITT's inhalation just before the tip of it nudged against his lips and he opened his mouth, with a tiny grateful moan, to welcome its invasion...

Feeling the Captain's long thick cock breach his anus and slide deep inside, _finally_ , the magnificent fullness and heat that every other penetration had been compared to, and found wanting, all evening long… 

Cunning fingers stroking into his ass while he came down the Captain's throat for the third time, seeing the expression of profound satisfaction on the human's intent face as he licked and sucked and swallowed, a bliss that was almost transcendent…

Secure in those masterful hands, KITT found yet again that blindness and surrender held no terrors.

He closed his eyes and he willingly fell, because he knew from experience that his Captain would always, _always_ catch him.


	7. Reading Part I

It was currently 12:24:13 on the afternoon of Tuesday September 9th 2008\. That's where KITT's body was temporally located, at any rate: curled up against the left arm of the couch in Suite 403 of the Cardiff Apartment, scanning a 1904 copy of _Paradise Lost_ while Jack Harkness lounged in the couch's middle, drinking beer from a bottle and cheering for Liverpool while watching the latest Premier League match on TiVo. Clear autumn sunshine streamed in through the south-facing windows, a pair of freshly baked chocolate cakes were cooling on the kitchen counter, and the overall atmosphere was one of easy-going relaxation on a lazy afternoon. 

Physically speaking, KITT was as safe as he was ever likely to get. 

Mentally, however… 

 _[//TIMESTAMP: WEDNESDAY SEPT 3_ _rd_ _2008 9:48:07 A.M.]_

 _[Emerging from the pall of smoke with a coughing howling child in each of his arms, KITT was pleased to see that more adults were milling around in the small crowd gathering outside the Wee Lambs Daycare — enough to hand the children off to, while Tosh's urgent voice filled on the comms: "I'm still picking up two life signs inside — down in the basement! KITT —"]_  

 _["I'm on it!" Turning and sprinting back through the time-worn wooden door of the burning building, then veering left and clattering down a flight of badly cast concrete stairs, following the floor plan Tosh had uploaded into his memory three minutes and twenty-one seconds earlier.]_  

 _["They're in the boiler room!" Two red dots appeared on the 3D matrix in KITT's mind as he sprinted down the smokey stairwell. "Two more children! KITT, hurry — the whole place is about to —"]_  

 _["I'm well aware!" //ENVIRONMENTAL TEMP: 30.3 AND RISING //OXYGEN LEVELS: 78.4% AND DROPPING @ 2%/SEC // STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: FAILING //ODDS OF SURVIVABILITY FOR HUMAN TARGETS WITHOUT IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION: <0.0236% — "Just get the paramedics here, fast!"]_ 

 _["I'm on it," and then he was at the boiler room door, a steel construct standing halfway ajar. Inside the nearly pitch-black room beyond, lit only by a small narrow window high up the wall, the sound of tiny hacking coughs led him to the boiler itself, and the second he'd come round its massive side the infrared signatures of two small bodies in the gloom told him he'd located his quarry —]_  

 _[— and encountered a significant problem: the terrified four-year-olds had jammed themselves as far back in the narrow space between boiler and wall as they possibly could, one point six metres in, and the gap between the pipes was too small for KITT's adult-sized body to enter.]_  

 _[//OPTIONS: //1: FORCE SELF THROUGH, PROBABILITY OF BOILER AND/OR PIPE RUPTURE AND RELEASE OF SCALDING WATER/STEAM ONTO TARGETS 87.3% //2: MOVE BOILER, PROBABILITY OF BOILER AND/OR PIPE RUPTURE AND RELEASE OF SCALDING WATER/STEAM 99.8% //3. COAX TARGETS OUT, DANGER: ENVIRONMENT DETERIORATING RAPIDLY, PROBABILITY OF FLASHOVER AND/OR STRUCTURAL COLLAPSE —]_  

_["Tosh," KITT broadcast silently, already dropping to one knee in front of the narrow gap and peering in at the huddled children, who were staring back at him wide-eyed and clinging to each other as best they could in the tight space, "how much time have I got?"]_

_["That depends on whether or not that signature on the third floor is another charge," Tosh stated, over the rapid clicking of keys under her fingers. "It could go off at any second. Please, tell me you've got them!"_  

_[KITT responded by opening up a live video feed, giving Tosh a window on exactly what he was seeing. Simultaneously he spoke audibly, pitching his voice to a low, slightly amused cadence: "That doesn't look very comfortable, does it? It must be really hot in there!" He smiled his most reassuring smile and extended his right hand into the gap, doing his best to project friendliness and trustworthiness. "Why don't you come on out and we'll go find your —?"]_

_[The little girl started to sob, burying her face against the boy's shoulder. The little boy glared back at KITT, and declared in a voice roughened by smoke: "Want my Mama!"]_  

 _["I know you do, and she's waiting for you, just upstairs." A flat-out lie, but in this case the ends more than justified the means. He leaned in five centimetres more, and gestured encouragingly with his fingers. "Come with me, and I'll take you to her."]_  

 _["Mama says we can't —" A fit of coughing, sharp as knives in his little throat. " — ever go with strangers. What's the word?"]_  

 _[For almost a full precious second, KITT utterly failed to understand. Then Tosh supplied what was lacking, her voice urgent in the comms: "He must mean a safe word, a code phrase that unknown adults have to use before he's allowed go with them."]_  

 _["A code phrase?" KITT maintained his outward smile even while broadcasting with considerable agitation: "_ ** _What_ ** _code phrase?"]_

_[Tosh sounded almost as desperate as he felt: "No idea. It could be anything — KITT, can't you get in there and pull them out?"]_

_[Aloud he said: "Your Mama sent me here without telling me the word — but she loves you very much, and she wants me to make sure you're safe."]_  

 _[On the comms he said, "Not without giving them potentially fatal third degree burns."]_  

 _[More sounds of lightning typing. "Trying to get a positive ID through facial recognition — if I can get their names, I can track down their —"]_  

 _[But KITT had stopped listening to the voice in his mind: he could hear something more significant overhead, a surge and a rumble, and feel the change in air pressure around him as the floors above him started to shift and compress, driving the smoke around them into agitated spirals. He leaned into the gap as far as he could, his hand straining toward the tiny tear-stained faces staring palely back at him just out of reach, and he had barely time enough for one final cry —]_  

 _["Sweetheart,_ ** _please_** _, you have to —!"]_  

 _[— before the room was consumed in a roar of heat and flames and falling debris, crushing everything into the concrete floor —]_  

 _[//WARNING! ENVIRONMENTAL FAILURE: //ENVIRONMENTAL TEMP: 498.6 //PRESSURE ~4986 PSI //SURVIVABILITY FOR HUMAN TARG—]_  

 _[— so quickly that the little ones he was trying to save didn't even have time to look up and see their own deaths coming.]_  

 _[ _—_ TARGETS — 0.0% — 0.0% — 0. —]_ 

 _[KITT died understanding, with perfect clarity, just how profoundly he'd failed.]_  

_[ **Again.** ]_

_[//TIMESTAMP: WEDNESDAY SEPT 3_ _rd_   _2008 9:48:07 A.M.]_

 _[Emerging from the pall of smoke with a coughing howling child in each of his arms, KITT was pleased to see that more adults were —]_  

"… KITT? Hey — Earth to KITT!"

Jack's impatient query snapped KITT back to the present, and to an immediate awareness of three things:

1.0 That he was exactly where he'd been for the past one hour and twelve minutes; 

2.0 That Jack was looking at him sidelong with one eyebrow on the rise; and  

3.0 That his own right foot, clad in a sock, had edged across the couch cushion to press its sole against the outer curve of Jack's left thigh. Doubtless this was what had gotten Jack's attention, since KITT was certain that in his preoccupation with the replay of recent memory records he'd neither said a word nor otherwise indicated what was passing through his mind. 

If KITT had been capable of blushing, he would have done so. He did the next best thing by starting to pull back his presumptuous appendage: the rule about touching Jack without permission was always in effect. "Captain, I'm sorry, I didn't —" 

But Jack's left hand was quicker: it closed over the top of KITT's foot and held it where it was, maintaining a form of contact that KITT had to admit was as comforting as it was improper. " _No_. Wrong answer." He rubbed his thumb across the line of KITT's toes, slow and soothing, while holding KITT's eyes with an unblinking gaze. "You were a million miles away just now, and it didn't look like a vacation to a particularly happy place." 

KITT mustered another smile, this one slightly self-deprecating. "I assure you, it was nothing." 

The human inclined his head slightly, a centimetre of sideways motion that conveyed several hundred kilometres worth of skepticism. "Maybe —" He put down his beer, picked up the TiVo remote, and paused the soccer game on the wide-screen TV before putting the remote down again and turning his full attention to the sheepish android at the end of the couch. "— but humour me anyway. Okay?" 

Studying Jack's face, KITT knew he'd been caught out: this particular expression meant that the Captain wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer. So after one point seven six seconds he nodded, and closed the leather-bound volume on his lap, and turned his attention to the rectangles of warm sunlight on the polished wooden floor beyond the coffee table, while his mind cast back across nearly inconceivable reaches of time and space to an episode from the life he'd been forced to leave behind. 

The memory behind the memory, as it were: the episode that lay at the root of his preoccupation with two other children, and the unavoidable tragedy of their sad and lonely deaths. 

Jack was just beginning to shift with fresh impatience, to open his mouth to issue a more direct command, when KITT began: "Her name was Kaylene Jane Griffith, the youngest daughter of Dave Griffith, a mining engineer, and Isabel Griffith nee Vasquez, a geologist turned stay-at-home mother. She was fifteen days shy of her ninth birthday when Michael and I came into her life, and like most children she accepted who and what I was unconditionally…"  


	8. Reading Part II

Jack closed his mouth and listened, his gaze focussed on KITT's profile with palpable intensity. Normally KITT would have turned immediately to engage his interest, but for once something even more compelling was commanding his attention: the memory of Kaylene's eager stream of questions, posed so cogently and so articulately for someone her age, which had pleased him so much as a robotic car and which brought an affectionate smile to humanlike lips now as he gazed toward the peaceful fall of sunlight in a different dimension. "I must say, she was a singularly bright and perceptive young lady! She was absolutely fascinated by all my controls and functions, and declared that I was more beautiful than any horse she'd ever seen. I promised I'd take her driving, when our mission helping her father root out a saboteur in the ranks of his subcontractors was done — she could even sit in the driver's seat and hold the steering yoke, while I raced the car through the arroyos…" Oh, she'd been happy! So young, and so eager for new experiences, and so vibrantly _alive_ … and then no more. His smile faltered and dimmed. "But we never got the chance. Two days after I met her she was kidnapped by the saboteur and tied up in an abandoned mining shaft, while the saboteur tried to distract attention from his own escape by opening up the floodgates that had been keeping an underground river out of the mine." 

He remembered — too well — sensing the first tremors in the dusty ground beneath his speeding wheels, and hearing a little girl's faint cries for help echoing among the standing stones… determining where she was trapped, in an inaccessible subterranean space… and putting all relevant data together to arrive at a horrible predictive conclusion. No matter which way he'd worked the numbers no option had magically appeared to provide an outcome consistent with Kaylene's survival… and then, as in the Wee Lambs Daycare, he'd had no choice but to face the inevitable tragic outcome without his pilot's presence, help or support. 

"I got there two minutes and forty-three seconds before the water swept over her," he continued matter-of-factly, "but I was unable to reach her: the shaft went thirteen point six feet straight down into the ground, and it was far too narrow for me to get into even if I'd been able to find the right orientation to enter it. I sent an alert to Michael, who was in hot pursuit of our quarry in the main tunnels of the excavation, but iron deposits in the surrounding rock layers interfered with my transmissions." _Alone._ He shook his head as if to banish the power of the memories replaying in his mind, but a shroud of grief still darkened the light before his eyes. "All I could do was stay with her, and keep talking to her, while the shaft filled with water and she…" 

"KITT." Jack voice wasn't edged with impatience anymore — in fact it was gentler, perhaps, than any tone KITT had ever heard before from this particular source. His hand squeezed the top of KITT's foot, an unspoken command that KITT couldn't help but obey, and when their eyes met he spoke with quiet but steely certainty: "It wasn't your fault."

KITT shook his head again, still hearing the muffled pleas of a child doomed to die. "You don't know the whole story." 

"I know you didn't put her in that hole." A fiercer light kindled in his gaze. "And I know you would've done anything to save her, even if it meant sacrificing yourself." 

KITT nodded without hesitation… then had to look away from the Captain's unbridled confidence in him, because… "I lied to her. I told her that help was coming. That everything was going to be all right, even though I knew she had less than three minutes left to live. I reminded her that I was going to take her driving, and kept telling her to hold on just a few seconds longer…" 

It was a confidence he'd entirely failed to earn.

"In the end, the very end, I think she realized what was going to happen — she tried to scream, but the water…" He looked down at Jack's hand cradling his foot close, sanctifying an unlawful touch, and felt something inside himself break at the undeserved kindness — a small crack, but poignant. The fracture of it queered his voice: "I listened while her heartbeat raced, and struggled, and finally ceased entirely. Listening was all I could do for her. She wasn't…" 

"You did the right thing." He sounded so certain. Of course he did: the Captain was nothing if not a man of solid convictions. 

"Did I?" KITT raised his eyes to meet that clear blue gaze, trying to make sense of the unqualified acceptance he saw there. "I've often wondered — should I have lied to her? Maybe if I'd told her she was going to die, she would have chosen to do something different with her final minutes. Maybe —" 

But Jack shook his head in emphatic negation. "— No. No 'maybes'." He turned to face KITT fully and shifted several centimetres closer, gently returning KITT's right leg to its original position (bent at the knee alongside his left, forming a shelf for _Paradise Lost_ ) to make room. He leaned in and reached around KITT's folded legs to cup KITT's face in both hands and hold the android steady while he delivered each low word like a body-blow: "Listen to me: When people find out they're about to die, they're not calm, or rational, or anything else worthwhile. They become terrified panicky animals, and they're probably going to spend those last couple of minutes crying and screaming, yelling for their mothers, begging for God or anybody else to come and save them." He tightened his grip, compelling KITT's attention with more than the raw power of his gaze. "You comforted her. You gave her hope. Thanks to you she only really suffered for a few seconds, not three minutes — because believe me, when you're staring death in the face, three minutes is an eternity."

KITT gazed back at him, feeling even more lost in the face of such unflinching certainty concerning his own lack of culpability in the matter of Kaylene Griffith's death, no more able to understand where it was coming from than he'd been able to comprehend Michael's acceptance and forgiveness at the time of the tragedy. "But — I couldn't save her." 

"No. You couldn't." He stroked KITT's left cheekbone with his thumb, and smiled a small strange smile. "But because you're a compassionate person, a genuinely _good_ person, you did the next best thing — you made sure that she suffered as little as possible." 

"The fact remains that she's dead," KITT pointed out.

"Everybody dies," Jack countered. "What really matters is how."

He had to look down at the worn leather book in his lap, unable to face such unexpected and unqualified absolution — or to keep all bitterness out of his voice. "At least it was quicker for Samuel Damgaard and Alice Ingalls…"

"Hey." Jack gave him a little shake, and when he looked up again, reluctantly, he found another smile awaiting him, brighter and fonder. "You saved six children that day. Do those six lives, six kids who can still hug their fathers and kiss their mothers goodnight, matter less than the two who didn't make it?" 

KITT analyzed that question for a full one point seven seconds — and had to acknowledge the point that was being made. "Well, when you put it that way…" 

Jack's smile widened — and then, inexplicably, he looked away, the quirk of his lips turning wry. KITT watched, puzzled by the briefly distant quality of the human's gaze, then by the gleam of moisture in his eyes when they rose to KITT's face again. His voice was gruff: "I was proud of you, y'know that? You didn't waste time waiting for orders: you saw what needed to be done, you came up with a plan, and you carried it out. Because of you, only two families had to organize funerals this week instead of eight. "

As perplexed as he was, KITT wasn't going to let that possible criticism pass: " _Was_ proud?"

Another glance away, and — was that a flush in his cheeks? Yes, clear to be seen on infrared, growing even deeper when he met KITT's eyes again and his smile widened in a way at odds with his clipped professional tone: "Still am. Always have been."

All process paths now aligned with the present, KITT studied the human in front of him closely, because this certainly wasn't the first time the Captain had presented simultaneous yet contradictory kinesic signals: engaging and distancing, affectionate and businesslike. Definitely time for a change of subject with a purpose: "You've been very generous with me." 

Jack shrugged the observation off — or tried to. "You're too hard on yourself. Somebody has to —" 

"That's not what I meant." Two could play the 'time for truths' game, and now it was KITT's turn to fire words as keen and direct as arrows. "I told you on the day we met that I was meant to work in conjunction with a human partner, and by bringing me here every week, by letting me spend time alone with you, one on one… you've given me back some portion of what I've lost, being without Michael." 

Jack's expression turned teasing, inviting — but it had the veneer of a mask over something darker beneath, and the way his hands shifted down to rest atop KITT's shoulders significantly decreased the intimacy of the contact he was offering. "I was sort of hoping I'd given you a lot more than that!" 

KITT ignored both signals in favour of watching the Captain's eyes. "You've taught me so much, in so many ways. I know you aren't kind to many people, not the way you've been kind to me. And I want you to know that I appreciate it." 

Jack's eyes… yes, that had definitely been the right thing to observe in this case: his smile was cavalier, his touch was light, but the quality of his gaze pierced right through KITT's artificial flesh and twined itself around his core with tendrils of unyielding fire. His quiet voice conveyed a matching intensity: "I'm kind to the people who deserve it. I've met so many who've been thoughtless, or cruel, or wilfully ignorant, or maliciously evil, but you… you've got a spine of pure steel, literally, and at the same time you're one of the gentlest, most fundamentally innocent souls I've ever met. You _need_ someone to guide you and protect you — and until we get you back to your pilot again, that task falls to me."

A new form of guilt began to take shape in KITT's motivational engine. He dropped his gaze and ducked his head, and murmured: "I never intended to be a burden to you." 

But Jack only shook his head again. "You haven't been. Trust me — it's been an honour, and a pleasure." He waited out one of his own heartbeats, and when KITT didn't look up he curved the index finger of his right hand under the android's chin to coax his gaze upward. This time the teasing had genuine warmth behind it: "Hey, I don't go around buying three thousand dollar four-poster beds for just anybody!" 

KITT stared with unqualified surprise, because that was new intelligence. "You bought it for _me?_ " 

Chuckling low in his throat, Jack moved in even closer; KITT shifted both feet onto the floor to provide room, and immediately found himself wrapped in a pair of warm strong arms while Jack purred against his left temple: "I had to have something solid to tie you to, didn't I?" He touched his lips briefly to KITT's forehead, smiled down into his eyes, then ducked his chin to press a more lingering kiss to KITT's still-puzzled mouth. "Now c'mon, sweetheart… how about we go break it in some more?" 

 _Paradise Lost_ , beer, TiVo, soccer and chocolate cakes were all forgotten for nearly three quarters of an hour — not merely because Jack Harkness was a lover capable of utterly enthralling anyone's senses, but because this interlude turned out to be one of the rare occasions where he gave KITT permission to use his hands and mouth completely freely during their sexual play. Watching the Captain shiver and writhe in response his caresses, listening to the human's sighs and gasps and moans of ecstatic (and enthusiastic) reaction, feeling the surges of potent sexual release while Jack was sheathed inside him and his fingers were buried inside Jack, and finally savouring the little tremors of aftershocks that chased through the immortal form in his arms while they clung to each other in the aftermath, KITT discovered that his preoccupation with three unfortunate deaths was no match for the enticements of two entwined lives, however temporarily shared. 

When Jack drew back just enough to smile down at him with unqualified joy, he offered a smile just as warm in return — and as his trespasses had been unconditionally forgiven, so was he able to forgive himself at last. 


	9. Wrestling Part I

If KITT had to pick a single word to describe Jack Harkness, out of all possible choices — including _intelligent, clever, cunning, determined,_ and _powerful_ — the one he'd favour above all others would be _energetic_ , especially on a day like today. This sunny afternoon of Thursday October 16th 2008 the Captain had been up for nearly forty-one hours straight, his team had just wrapped up a frustrating case involving smugglers of an offworld narcotic called Tasm, and rather than being utterly exhausted like any normal human being he was almost jittering out of his skin. 

Which meant, of course, that although he was willing enough to let KITT lead him to Suite 403 on Queen Street he wasn't going to do the sensible thing and go straight to sleep. No, it meant that he'd swept into the apartment like a hurricane and immediately started pushing back the furniture in the combined living room/dining room, because he couldn't think of a better time to teach KITT the basics of Kaldouran tri-helical wrestling! 

Come to think of it, the word _perverse_ was also highly applicable, in any number of ways…

So here they were, stripped to the waist (an essential aspect of the sport, Jack claimed, although KITT had drawn the line at coating themselves liberally in cooking oil) and circling each other in the centre of the 36.4 square metres of cleared wooden floor at a distance of 1.8 metres, focussed on the relationship of their bodies in a way which was, for once, neither sexual nor related to combined tactics in the field. KITT had suspected from the start that this little exercise wasn't about actual instruction in an alien form of martial arts, and the way Jack was grinning as they sized each other up — and more significantly, not offering a single word of introduction or explanation concerning this particular form of wrestling — confirmed his intuition. No, this wasn't about teaching as much as it was about burning off some of that nearly manic energy: Jack might indeed offer a more formal course at some future date, probably in the Hub's training room, but today… 

Jack checked, feinted, started to circle in the opposite direction. KITT mirrored his actions, knowing it was only a matter of time — and when Jack lunged, the movement telegraphed by a sudden gathering of muscular tension that even the most highly trained human warrior couldn't conceal from an android's senses, KITT was ready for him: lunge, block with right arm, left hand cocked back to deliver a glancing touch to the skin over the human's solar plexus — 

— and then KITT found himself flat on his back with Jack half on top of him, analyzing exactly _how_ his opponent had employed the laws of physics. "Fascinating," he remarked as the floor underneath them slowly ceased vibrating from the impact. "You used the inertia of my own block against me."

Jack grinned down at him. "Yep!" His right leg was still entwined with KITT's right, his upper body braced over the android on both extended arms, and KITT took advantage of the space between them to bend his left leg all the way back to his shoulder, plant his left foot on Jack's stomach, and push hard enough to force the human to his feet in one motion — but smoothly enough that no damage was caused to the organic tissues, of course. Jack let himself be pushed, using the energy thus conveyed to fall back 1.3 metres, and grinning more widely as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Flexible little thing, ain't ya?" 

"Inarguably." KITT arched his back, lifting his hips off the floor, then flexed sharply, winding up back on his feet in a crouch. "But I suspect you already knew that."

Jack growled — "Oh _yeah!_ " — and started circling again. KITT followed his lead. Within sixty seconds they'd made the floor reverberate five more times — and after the fifth loud _thud!_ of bodies hitting wood another sound intruded on the silence of their apartment: a staccato _tap!tap!tap!_ from below, which KITT immediately ran through his audio analyzer to determine the cause.

Judging by the happy quality of his laughter, Jack had already figured it out. "Looks like our downstairs neighbours don't appreciate the ruckus!" 

" _Sounds_ like" KITT corrected from underneath him.  

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Jack shrugged, and tightened the wrap of his arms around KITT's prone body. "There! Let's see ya get out of _that_." 

 _[//ACCENT TREND TOWARD SOUTHERN: ~16% INCREASE]_  

KITT squirmed experimentally, using only human-equivalent strength and flexibility. The living bonds around him held fast. 

 _[//PHEROMONAL OUTPUT INCREASE: 18.7%/2 SEC //SKIN TEMP INCREASE: 2.3 DEGREES/2 SEC //HEART RATE INCREASE: 12 BPM/2 SEC //AGGRESSION LEVEL INCREASE: ~3%/2 SEC]_  

Jack practically purred, shifting to cover KITT with 7% more of his body — and pressing a very conspicuous signal of sexual arousal against the curves of KITT's buttocks. "Ooh, honey," he breathed against the shell of KITT's left ear as he ground down, "I _like_ it when you move that way!"

"You do, do you?" KITT murmured, shifting his hips back two centimetres with a flirty little flick that made Jack's breath catch in his throat — and then leaving human limits far behind, physically speaking.  

 _THUD!_  

"That," Jack complained from his new supine position, "was _totally_ against the rules." 

 _Tap!_ Yes, distinctly annoyed. _Tap!Tap!Tap!TAP!_  

KITT ignored the secondary audio input in favour of smiling down at the quarry he was neatly straddling. He settled his pelvis more firmly onto the bulge in Jack's groin — another eager catch of breath — and secured his grip on Jack's wrists, pinning them to the carpet above the human's shoulders. "Considering that you haven't even explained the rules yet —"

"I was getting there!" 

"Yes." He opened his thighs a little more and pressed down, savouring the subtle flush of blood into Jack's visible skin. "I'm sure you were."

Now it was Jack's turn to push and pull experimentally against his opponent's hold, but KITT was doing his best imitation of the proverbial immovable object. "Okay, fun's fun — now let me up." 

KITT studied him for a full 1.5 seconds, the deepening of his breathing and that full-body blush, and recalled Jack's statement from seventy-three days ago following their first marathon bout of cookie baking: _I've gotta admit, you're one sexy bastard when you get all… bossy._ There had been dilated pupils then too, and a rapid heartbeat — and on this occasion, they had the additional advantages of (1.0) not having a disastrously messy kitchen to deal with, (2.0) already being naked from waist up, and (3.0) lying on a conveniently horizontal surface. 

"No," KITT said quietly, "I don't think so," and tightened his grip on Jack's wrists a fraction of a second before leaning down to apply his mouth to Jack's in a kiss that left no room for argument whatsoever. 


	10. Wrestling Part II

For 0.57 of a second Jack's whole body tensed, and KITT was certain he'd badly miscalculated — and was probably in for the spanking of his short humanoid life as soon as Jack got out from under him, because on the continuum of "touching without permission" violations there had to be a special rating of 12 for effectively manacling one's Dom and then crushing one's lips down onto his own almost hard enough to bruise. The suspicion lasted all of 0.09 seconds, because instead of jerking away in anger Jack did the exact opposite: he leaned up into the kiss, opening his mouth hungrily, and when KITT slipped his tongue inside the moan Jack uttered was nearly desperate in its intensity, his hard cock flexing against the confining pressure of KITT's testicles.

Such a reaction, while not exactly expected, was certainly not unwelcome: on the contrary, it fired up a whole new aspect of the [JACKHARKNESS1] protocol and took KITT immediately from Level 1 to Level 3 on his subjective arousal curve. Jack's cock felt so _good_ , trapped that way — it brought to mind six other ways that KITT could restrain it, most of which he'd learned from Jack himself… and likewise seventeen potential techniques for teasing, tormenting, adoring…

"You like that, do you?" he whispered when he finally elected to pull back enough to get a word in edgewise, and tightened his grip just enough to inflict the slightest edge of pain.

" _Guh,_ " Jack gasped, staring into KITT's face with distinctly glazed eyes as he pushed his hips upward, trying to get more friction.

"Now _that_ ," KITT chided, "is against the rules," and removed most of the pressure by lifting his pelvis while simultaneously repositioning Jack's wrists — moving them together above his head, to enclose them in the grip of one steel-boned hand. Jack continued to stare, panting, while KITT slipped his right hand down the warm length of naked vulnerable torso to his still-clothed groin… rubbed to make him groan with fresh pleasure… then pinched the tip of his cock through his pants sharply enough to make him flinch deliciously. "And what do you suppose this sport is called?"

"Uh." He was visibly gathering his scattered wits, devastated by exhaustion and intense arousal, but hazarded a guess anyway: "Turnabout is fair play?"

KITT rewarded him by slowly petting his trapped aching length, which declared his enthusiasm without the need for any words whatsoever, but — "I'll need a colour, Jack."

"Green." Not a nanosecond's hesitation. "That's — just this once, okay?" A soft rush of words, and a depth of appeal in those blue eyes that was frankly startling. "I just — I need —" and his head fell back, his eyes flickering closed as he grimaced and cursed: " _Fuck_ , KITT, just — touch me! Make me _feel_ it…"

Alarmed now, because there was something here he didn't understand, something clearly fundamental, KITT sat halfway up and removed his hand from Jack's erection to lay it against the human's blushing cheek. "Jack?"

He turned his face away from KITT's touch with a huff of bitter laughter, speaking as if to himself: "You don't know. You honestly don't know."

"Know what?" He let his hand come to rest on Jack's throat and traced the line of its carotid artery with his thumb, acutely aware of the rush of vulnerable blood beneath fragile skin.

A pause. A curt shake of his head, tumbling the careless hair across his brow. "Nothing. Just — seeing you on the floor after that degauss hit you, I thought, for a second —"

KITT gave him a beat to finish that sentence, then concluded it for him: "You thought I was going to die." A tight nod. "But I'm functionally immortal. You know that."

"I know that nothing's killed you so far," Jack practically snapped, "and that's _all_ I know. What if degaussing was the magic bullet?"

"It wasn't." He leaned in again to press a kiss to the warm skin beside Jack's mouth, to whisper: "Look at me…" And when Jack did, opening his eyes and turning his head back until their noses bumped, KITT continued quietly but with perfect certainty: "I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere — not until you choose to send me away."

A subtle tension filled the human's sturdy form, belying his light vocal tone: "Promise?"

KITT was excellent at any number of things, but determining the nature of apparent contradictions between internal human emotional states and outward human affect had never been one of his best developed abilities: he could detect the discrepancy, but beyond that his talents were severely limited. "I give you my word — and you know that's something I never fail to keep."

"Yeah." He leaned up again to nudge nose against nose, one corner of his expressive mouth crooking upward. "I noticed." Pale eyes gazed deeply into KITT's, both merry and solemn. "Or until we find a way to get you home again, right?"

KITT dipped his chin in a nod. "That goes without saying."

Jack's face grew very still. "So what if we never do?"

There were depths to that stillness which KITT couldn't decipher, so he curved his hand closer around Jack's neck and offered a reassuring smile. "Then I'll remain for as long as you ask me to."

"You'd do that for me?" His tone was so light, his gaze so intense.

"Why on Earth not?" He let some of his puzzlement leak through into his vocal tone. "I can think of far worse ways to employ my time than spending it with you. You're intelligent, you possess so many interesting aspects, and you challenge me in ways that —"

Jack lunged up as best to could to press a kiss to KITT's mouth, silencing him — but that wasn't the game they were playing at the moment, so KITT countered forcefully, biting Jack's full lower lip hard enough to provoke a startled inhalation before covering his mouth aggressively and pushing him flat to the floor. Jack let himself be pinned by KITT's weight: his cock pressed along KITT's own erection was swollen to full hardness, his heartbeat (which had slowed during their conversation) was starting to surge faster again, and his whole-body squirm was erotic rather than constituting a serious attempt to escape KITT's superhuman hold. 

_[//VITALS: HIGH OPTIMAL RANGE //LIMBIC SYSTEM ACTIVITY INCREASE: 23.7%/2 SEC //SKIN TEMP INCREASE: 1.9 DEGREES/2 SEC //HEART RATE INCREASE: 13 BPM/2 SEC //ADRENALINE RESPONSE ONGOING]_

KITT smiled with sleek satisfaction and applied his lips and tongue with skillful inventiveness, feeding off of Jack's every move. Although he couldn't remember ever exercising this sort of sexual dominance before, he was rapidly discovering that he rather — no, that he _definitely_ liked it, because Jack had always been deliciously responsive and now he was letting KITT take the wheel, putting himself firmly in KITT's hands. AUTO CRUISE in his automobile form had always been exhilarating, but this was a different kind of control that put him in the driver's seat for a change, a whole new — 

 _[_ ** _Should_** _I be liking this?]_ A quiver of doubt intruded, almost compelling him to pause. _[This isn't what I was built for! What if —?]_

_[//OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //PARAMETER 1: SEXUAL STIMULATION OF TARGET //PARAMETER 2: INDUCTION OF SEXUAL CLIMAX IN TARGET //PARAMETER 3: ONGOING/REPEATED IMPLEMENTATION OF PARAMETERS 1 AND 2]_

Jack moaned, a gleam of fine sweat standing out all over his visible skin, and KITT had to admit that the living pulse in this human's yearning erection was all the justification he would ever need when it came to situations like this.

Therefore he kissed Jack into submission, waiting until he felt all but a last lingering trace of resistance leave the human's body before breaking the seal of their lips and murmuring into their hotly shared breath: "No more interruptions, Jack — or I'll be forced to take measures to guarantee your silence." He ran his right thumb lightly up the line of Jack's jaw, then along his lower lip, pleased to see the dilation of the human's already blown pupils increase by 3.6%. "And I'm sure there are things you'd _much_ rather have in that eloquent mouth of yours than whatever sort of gag I can improvise for it."

Jack grinned hugely, the sweetness far outweighing the bitter. 'Yes _Sir!_ " he declared, starting to rock his pelvis in long slow strokes, shamelessly rubbing cock against cock through their clothing. The rush of positive feedback thus provoked in KITT's systems was more than a little distracting, and a direct contravention of the rules already laid down, but Jack wouldn't be Jack if he didn't push the envelope… and therefore KITT elected to allow it — for the moment. 

"Excellent," he purred, "I'm glad we understand each other," and touched a gentler kiss to Jack's lips by way of reward. Jack, of course, couldn't passively accept it: he slipped his tongue out to glide its impudent tip along KITT's upper lip, and KITT promptly chastised him by employing a little-known feature of his energy management systems: he licked back, while deploying a spark of electricity off the point of his tongue that provoked quite a tingle if the way Jack jerked and shivered was anything to go by. The accompanying growl was perfectly clear in its implications — was practically a demand, in fact, for more of the same, which came as no surprise to KITT, who'd applied electrical stimulation to this human's body in a sexual context on four previous occasions, and who had received rave reviews every time.

The growl became words somewhat muffled by the ongoing kiss but still decipherable — "Oh baby, _hurt_ me some more!" — and the gleam in Jack's half-lidded eyes was practically an inferno, heat that shone in his gaze and made his mouth a flame and burned in his erection, straining against the confines of his pants and briefs. In a fraction of a second KITT calculated all the places on Jack's body where the stripes of glowing blue on his own tongue could be employed to maximum effect — lips, nipples, testicles, the length and the head of that proud ruddy cock — and within a half-second more he'd formulated a plan of attack… but Jack needed more than just a gift of sexual stimulation freely offered, he wanted a firm hand and the opportunity to both rebel and surrender…

In this respect too, it seemed, KITT possessed the skills necessary to serve and to satisfy him. It was proving a most gratifying realization.

He pulled away sharply, getting several critical centimetres to gaze down at his prey. "Is that what you want, Jack?" He slipped the fingers of his right hand into the short hair at the back of Jack's head and gripped tight, tight enough to sting and to restrain. "A little taste of pain with your pleasure?"

Jack's smile was almost feral, his eyes still too bright. Impossible even for KITT to miss, that darkness beneath… "Yes. _Sir._ " 

"And you'll do whatever I tell you?"

He squirmed again, thrusting his pelvis upward as he leered: "Why don'tcha give it a whirl, see how that works out for you?"

This time KITT channelled the electricity through his fingers — at a higher voltage, enough to make Jack yelp as it danced briefly over his scalp and his forearms, followed by a gasp of indrawn breath and a moan: "Oh _yeah!"_ — 

— at the precise instant that somewhere deep inside KITT a motivational telltale flashed over into the red: _[//WARNING! IMMINENT PRIMARY PRINCIPLE VIOLATION!]_ He froze as a wave of subroutine realignment cascaded through his synapses, his visual inputs darkening as a single word choked from his throat: " _Yellow!"_

Beneath him, the sensual writhing became alert stillness in the blink of a human eye, and the throaty hum of arousal became a sharp query: "KITT?"

He shook his head, but the haze behind his eyes remained, along with an ache of mounting horror. "Captain, I —!"


	11. Wrestling Part III

The channels of energy beneath KITT's skin went cold and dead

_[//WARNING! LEVEL 1 EMERGENCY SHUTDOWN INITIATED!]_

as he slumped forward, his grip on the Captain's hair and wrists unlocking. The Captain, with his natural instinct for doing exactly what was necessary at any given moment, twisted his hands free in an instant and managed to catch KITT on the way down: his left hand closing on KITT's right shoulder, his right palm cupping KITT's forehead to cushion its descent onto the wooden floor next to his right ear. 

_[//SHUTDOWN //SHUTDOWN //… //PRIMARY PRINCIPLE VIOLATION AVERTED]_

Catching him and guiding him down to sprawl atop a warm muscular body whose tension was now far from sexual, although that prominent erection remained pressed between them, hard against KITT's rapidly softening genitals.

KITT let his unseeing eyes drift closed… and drifted for 2.327 seconds as his body and mind rebooted in layers…

_[//… //… //…]_

"Hey!" The sharp interjection brought his environmental interface back online

_[//JACKHARKNESS1: TARGET REACQUIRE AND ENGAGE]_

while that strong right hand stroked back from his brow and carded firm fingers through his hair, to curve round the nape of his neck and give it a squeeze clearly intended to focus his attention. "KITT, what the hell —?"

_[Too much — I hurt — I almost —]_

"Emerg—" KITT began, and found his vocalization slurred as if with frost: the unquenchable fire that enlivened this mammalian analogue body seemed to have turned almost entirely to inert ashes. He drew a shallow breath, a sip of oxygen he didn't need around the fusion engines in his chest _[//OUTPUT: 10.03%]_ and tried again, managing better vocal control this time: "Emergency — shutdown. I —" His memory, indelible and eidetic, replayed the crackle of electricity over the Captain's vulnerable flesh, and he flinched. "Shocked you! I didn't intend —"

"You did exactly what I asked you to do." He cradled KITT's head against the side of his neck, turning to enunciate each word clearly into his hair while his left hand gave KITT's right shoulder a squeeze, then slipped down and around his bare lower back to embrace him and hold him even closer. " _Exactly_ what I asked you to do. Everything's fine. Nobody got hurt."

KITT dared to turn his face against the Captain's throat, breathing in the living perfume of him

_[//PHEROMONAL OUTPUT INCREASE: 5.9%/5 SEC //VITALS: MED OPTIMAL RANGE //PRIMARY PRINCIPLE VIOLATION AVERTED]_

while his fusion engines emitted a cautious pulse of higher output, a flicker of blue radiance racing outward from his chest through his subcutaneous ionic channels.

_[//AVERTED //AVERTED //AVERTED //OUTPUT: 22.5%]_

"It's okay." The Captain managed to sound comforting and commanding at the same time. He tightened the circle of his arm around KITT's waist, simultaneously pushing his hips upward to showcase that irrepressible cock. "See? Just fine."

_[//COMMENCING DIFFERENTIAL DIAGNOSTICS //OUTPUT: 31.5%]_

Manual control came back online; KITT took advantage of it to cling, burying his left hand in the Captain's hair and clutching at that solid blood-warm shoulder with his right, nestling his pointed chin into the angle where shoulder met neck. "Captain, I —"

He gave KITT a little shake, waist and nape. "It's _Jack_ , remember? Geez, what hit you? This wasn't the first time you've spiced things up with a little electricity!"

"I was _degaussed_ , remember?" KITT snapped back as waves of probability calculations and diagnostics presented their findings. "And clinically 'dead' for over a minute and fifteen seconds. It's only natural that my systems would be rendered somewhat… well, fragile, in the aftermath — physically _and_ psychologically."

The Captain — Jack — huffed a laugh. "Perfect time to take your first turn at Domming, huh?" A beat of silence fell between them, warm and companionable — and safe, as KITT lay still and let his fusion engines power back up. "Y'know, you didn't have to —"

"I'm well aware." He realized how waspish it sounded a sliver of a second after the words came out, and pitched his voice to a more congenial timbre: "Rest assured, it was far from an unpleasant experience."

_[//DIFFERENTIAL DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE //OUTPUT 67.9% //MOTIVATIONAL REALIGN AND REBOOT IN PROGRESS]_

Another huff, this one sarcastic. "Wow, with that kind of enthusiasm —"

KITT discovered that he was feeling frisky enough to lean up and bite Jack's earlobe, a manoeuvre which had the predicted and desired effect: a shiver, a smirk, and silence. "You didn't let me finish," he murmured into the human's ear. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted —"

"I think," Jack said with pointed patience, "that if you review the last thirty seconds you'll find that _you're_ the one who keeps —" 

KITT was nothing if not resilient, even after a seventy-eight second brush with oblivion and its lingering effects. He opened his eyes, their red indicators shuttering open and closed with new energy as several streams of programming realigned, coalesced, interlocked, and activated: _[//JACKHARKNESS1 NEWPROTOCOL DOM1 ENGAGE]_

Data acquired and plan formulated — with suitable adaptations based on recent experimentation, of course. Sparks and shocks might thrill Jack another day, but for now…

 _Bite_ , followed by a tiny stroke of his tongue to soothe the sting. "You know, I _will_ have to teach you a lesson if you persist." Shifting down 5.3 centimetres to deliver another lingering bite, this one to the corded sternocleidomastoid muscle in Jack's neck, then a tender kiss on the mark. "Strictly for your own good, of course."

He could feel Jack's smile in the shifting of skin and muscles under his lips, could hear it in Jack's purr and register the enthusiasm in the slow roll of his hips, his cock still at full parade attention. "My own good, huh? And _strictly_ … that sounds… promising."

"It is." He'd employed this tone of voice before with Jack, but only in fleeting instances: silky, suggestive, and confident, it went perfectly with [DOM1]. "Or perhaps threatening, depending on your point of view."

"Mmmm…" He removed his right hand from KITT's neck and let it fall to his side, running his open left hand slowly back across KITT's spine, the leather of his wrist strap catching slightly against artificial skin: freeing the android to move… but a serious note intruded on the glow: "You don't have to do this. I'm just glad you're still here to touch me at all."

Which prompted a smile, amused and fond, and a kiss to the robust pulse in his lover's carotid artery. "I assure you, it will be my pleasure." He nipped playfully at the smooth skin, then hard enough to make Jack's breath catch in his throat, followed by a throaty purr: "Now lie back and let me do the —"

"I mean it." The stern tone was a surprise, drawing KITT's head up and back to meet Jack's intent unblinking gaze. "I don't need you to serve me. I need you to be happy. If you wanted to leave Torchwood —"

KITT was the one who blinked. "Why on Earth would you ever suppose that i wasn't happy?"

"You just had a stroke in the middle of foreplay," Jack countered; his left hand locked onto KITT's clothed hip, as if ready to push him away. "Call me strange, but that's usually not a good sign."

"Jack…" He elected to address the points raised in reverse order. "That wasn't a 'stroke' — it was a Level 1 emergency shutdown triggered by a perceived imminent Primary Principle violation."

Jack scowled up at him. "Wanna try that again? In English?"

KITT shook his head, bemused. "I got too enthusiastic. I went too far. And because I'd caused you pain —"

"— pain I _asked_ for —"

"— the First Law of Robotics kicked in and shut me down until my motivational engines could reset and reboot."

Jack tilted his head, his bright eyes narrowing. "And that's all it was?"

"That's all it was." He offered a reassuring smile. "I'm still recovering from the degaussing. The instability isn't permanent, I promise you."

He still hadn't blinked. "And you always keep your promises." 

KITT nodded. "I do." Jack's eyes slipped closed, his face an enigma as some of the tension in his upper body relaxed, and KITT ventured to continue: "As to your initial point… I'm here for any number of reasons, not least of which is that being with you fulfills certain crucial needs, including my imperative to serve a single dedicated pilot. You've never forced me to do anything: what I've done with you, I did of my own free will, insofar as I can be said to possess free will at all."

His voice was soft, underlaid with ache: "I don't want a slave."

KITT had had enough of the inexplicable for one day. He tightened his grip in Jack's hair enough to tug, and was gratified by the way Jack immediately opened both eyes to focus on him. "And you've never had one. Or if you ever did, it wasn't me. I'm really quite fond of you, Captain, and once you'd decided I was a fit ally you never failed to treat me with respect and consideration. Rest assured that I'm well content to be here, with you, right now."

Jack smiled at him, and _that_ was easy to read: relief mingled with joy, adulterated only by an unspoken question lingering in tiny lines at the corners of his eyes. "If you're sure, really sure —"

Another kiss was called for, deep and slow enough to close that line of inquiry, to leave Jack silent when KITT drew back to whisper against his parted lips: "I'm positive."

"Love it…" He nudged with the tip of his nose against KITT's, then stole a kiss, his smile now impossibly wide, almost a little drunk. "Love it when you touch me…"

KITT kissed him again with authority, securing his grip in the human's hair and shifting to his left, rolling them over onto their sides, face to face. "Like this?"

"Yeah." Jack followed the pull, letting KITT manipulate him easily. His pupils were dilating again, his skin temperature increasing, his pheromonal output surging — and his cock flexed in his pants, visibly eager. " _Just_ like that."

Taking all the signs together, KITT nodded and consciously willed his softened penis back to full hardness. "I'm afraid I clearly have no talent for the cruder forms of domination. But perhaps, if you'll permit me…?"

"Anything." Jack's smile was lazy, seductive, his lips full and flushed, his eyes so bright as he leaned a little closer, opening himself up with every detail of body language. "Mmmm, anything you want, sweetheart! Anything you say…"

_[//OUTPUT 100% //JACKHARKNESS1 DOM1 ESCALATE]_

Holding Jack's gaze and keeping a firm grip on his hair, KITT reached down and deftly opened up his own pants with his free hand.


	12. Wrestling Part IV

Jack's smile widened wickedly, eyes half-lidded, and when KITT reached inside his trousers and black briefs to pull his erection free the human's gaze gravitated toward it — but KITT quickly leaned up onto his left elbow to get the height advantage and kissed him: firm, open-mouthed, with a slow stroke of tongue to command his attention. And Jack seemed happy to be commanded, surrendering to the kiss as easily and as hungrily as when he was the one doing the Domming and keeping KITT firmly in line. 

KITT took his time, intrigued by the sensation of the change, of Jack Harkness yielding to the grip of another's hand in his hair while that hand tugged him closer, holding him in place to have his mouth plundered even more deeply. The soft sounds Jack was making were sensual, unguarded — and undeniably arousing, definitely something KITT intended to hear more of before this encounter was done. He opened his fingers to slide his hand round to the back of Jack's head, where the hair was close-cropped over his occipital bone, and secured a new grip on the base of his skull; Jack grunted as if in protest, which KITT felt warranted the application of his teeth to that agile blood-warm tongue — provoking a satisfied purr — followed by the withdrawal of his mouth entirely, getting enough distance to fix Jack with a stern glare.

Jack smiled back at him, his parted lips kissed red, his blue eyes dancing with a merry light. The sight melted the motivational complex that passed for KITT's heart

_[I could almost forget Michael, in a moment like this —]_

but he maintained a facade of hauteur. "Tell me, who's in charge here?"

"You are." He glanced to KITT's lips, set in an unforgiving line, then down their bodies to KITT's exposed cock, the delicately blue-inscribed head visible above KITT's fingers enclosing the shaft. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. "Sir."

"And you'll take whatever I give you, won't you?"

A slyer quirk of his expressive mouth. "Like I said: anything you want."

"But that's not really the point of this exercise, is it? Look at me!" Jack obeyed, dragging his eyes back to KITT's face with obvious reluctance. KITT held his gaze, lowering his voice to a softer timbre: "If you've taught me one lesson, it's that the one on the bottom is the one who ultimately calls the shots. So tell me, Jack — what do _you_ want?"

Jack tipped his chin up defiantly, but the line of his throat was beautifully vulnerable. "I want your cock in my mouth — and your hand on my head, forcing me to take every inch of it."

"And you're sure about that?"

His voice smouldered like antique paper in a flame: "I've been sure about that from the second I met you."

KITT performed a reflexive lightning calculation — two hundred and sixty-eight days, eleven hours, twenty-four minutes and eleven seconds — then offered a suggestive smile of his own. "In that case, I'd certainly say you've waited long enough." He shifted position, withdrawing his left hand to prop himself up fully on his left elbow, then lifting his right hand to stroke his fingers into the longer hair at the top of Jack's head — and to get a good solid grip on it. Jack closed his eyes with a swift intake of breath, his smile beatific. "Down," he ordered, and Jack needed no further encouragement to slide along his torso — with a sly swipe of his tongue over each nipple along the way, stimulating a flare of radiance through the nearby ionic channels — and get straight to work, sheathing the head of KITT's erection in the wet heat of his eager mouth and polishing it thoroughly with his tongue, then wrapping his fingers round the base of the shaft and plunging all the way down, sucking on it like a man dying of thirst. 

Incoming data to KITT's process matrix was strictly regulated, each detail analyzed and allocated to the proper cognitive channels in an orderly fashion — but this… this input had always been anomalous, the sensory stimulation that came from this particular human being's physical form. Each stroke of Jack's agile tongue sent a wave of flame flowing through his process paths, setting the synth skin beneath its caresses on fire, lighting KITT up inside with a heat that threatened cognitive integrity itself — an incandescence that turned regimented thought molten and reduced it to simple essential units: _Yes!_ and _Harder!_ and _More, Please, More…_

"Oh, Jack…!" He closed his eyes _[safe, this darkness was_ ** _safe_** _, the clasp of Jack's left hand around the base of his cock holding him fast, that devilish mouth anchoring him]_ and tightened his grip in Jack's hair — and pushed down, just a little. Jack moaned happily and went with it, taking KITT's glans to the verge of his throat — then went two centimetres further on his own, swallowing once _[hot and tight, a whole different degree of burn]_ before pulling back to the depth that KITT had dictated: _Come on, baby, I can take it, you_ ** _know_** _I can take it._ And KITT did know, from experience: this wasn't the first time Jack had deep throated him, merely the first time he was the one in undisputed control of the process. He pushed down again, this time rolling his hips forward simultaneously, and the groaning sound Jack made as the glans breached his throat was positively ravenous, the flare of pleasure nearly blinding, the delight of discovery in [DOM1] intoxicating…

Yet KITT rocked his hips back and tugged with his right hand, sliding Jack's mouth off his cock with a luscious wet _pop_. He opened his eyes and looked down his torso to find Jack glaring back up at him, clearly disgruntled. "Colour, please?"

Jack scowled… then grinned like a wolf. "Green," he growled, his voice already roughened as if from internal friction, "every fucking shade of green there is, now are you going to fuck my throat or not, _Sir?_ "

"Impatient _and_ impudent," KITT mused, and released his grip to stroke slow thoughtful fingers through the longest strands of Jack's tousled hair, brushing it tenderly back off his forehead. "You might be better served by being tied up in a corner and left to your own devices instead. Perhaps that would teach you some necessary discipline — not to mention humility."

Impossibly, the grin widened. "Y'know, one of these days I would love it if you'd tie me to a chair and edge me until I beg for mercy, but for now —" He bowed his head to brush his lips against the head of KITT's cock, then softly kiss it, his wide-eyed upturned gaze through dark lashes far too carnal and sardonic to be mistaken for the innocence it superficially resembled. "Please, Sir — haven't I earned a little hands-on punishment?"

Meeting those direct blue eyes, KITT melted all over again

_[I need not ask your sins, for I already know they are legion]_

and let a trace of the reaction soften his sternly set features. "Punishment? No, Jack — that has never been my place, and never will be." He stroked that coarse dark hair one final time, then slipped his fingers into it and gripped tightly again. "But pleasure? Yes, that I will always strive to give you, for as long as you ask it of me."

Jack's eyes slid closed. He pressed another kiss to the tip of KITT's erection, then provoked a flow of cyan light down its length with a delicate lick into the slit. "KITT," he whispered, and KITT felt as well as saw the shiver run through him from shoulders to heels, his left hand taking tighter hold, "liara, _please_ —"

Jack Harkness wasn't a man to whom begging came easily — or naturally. But sometimes, in private, he let his guard down enough to come close, and that word in a language KITT didn't understand, _liara_ , was always associated with a genuine plea. He knew that if he asked what it meant, Jack would brush him off as he always had in the past… but at the same time he could read the tone of voice, fervent and nearly adoring — and he knew what he had to do.

He knew his function. He _was_ his function. And he never failed to carry out his function to the best of his ability, no matter the circumstances, no matter his questions or his doubts. 

And if he genuinely enjoyed giving this human what was asked of him… well, that was a blessing he'd never had any right to expect, and one he never failed to be appropriately grateful for. 

He spared Jack any need for further speech by giving that clever mouth something better to do — tugging with his hand, rolling his hips — and when Jack surrendered eagerly to the manhandling KITT experienced the top-down satisfaction that could only come from being exactly where, and exactly what, he was intended to be. 

The things he had learned to be, under this man's expert tutelage. 

The things he had come, it must be admitted… to love.


	13. Wrestling Part V

Fellatio was commonly defined as any act involving the insertion of male genitals into someone's mouth, but KITT, who was a demon for the details, knew that the common definition was incorrect. In a more technical sense, fellatio involved action on the part of the individual providing the stimulation: the fellating party used their mouth on the person being fellated, and even a bound person could perform very active and effective fellatio.

Jack, at this point, wasn't being given the freedom to employ his lips, tongue or teeth: KITT's cock was inserted too deeply for him to lick or suck. His mouth and throat were simply a channel for each thrust of KITT's erection, and KITT's hand knotted in his hair held him firmly in place, so even the up-and-down movements of his head were completely out of his control. This was textbook irrumation inflicted on a helpless party — and to judge by the lusty noises Jack was making around the shaft currently gagging him, he was enjoying every second of it. In spite of that iron grip in his hair he was still trying to sink himself deeper on KITT's cock, still trying to use his tongue every time KITT pulled back that crucial seven or eight centimetres, still swallowing when KITT's glans was embedded in his throat, and when KITT looked down their bodies past the human's rapt expression he could see Jack's arousal tenting the front of his trousers, straining against the fabric with every restless shift of his hips.

That simply wouldn't do. KITT secured his grip in Jack's hair and tugged his head back hard, far enough that the underside of his cockhead was now rubbing firmly over that avid and inventive tongue. Jack's soft pleading grunts became a grateful moan as he ran his tongue thoroughly over the artificial glans, tasting every square centimetre of it he could reach while saliva, leaking through the seal of his lips, coated his lower lip and ran slowly down onto his chin.

_[//VITALS: HIGH OPTIMAL RANGE //BRAIN WAVES: ALPHA 17.6 TX BETA 18.9 TX //SKIN TEMP INCREASE: 0.7 DEGREES/2 SEC //HEART RATE INCREASE: 3 BPM/2 SEC //ENDORPHINE RESPONSE ENGAGED]_

In the palm of KITT's right hand, glowing points appeared and started to extrude into delicate proto-tendrils: he was a learning machine after all, and he yearned to know what this felt like to his human lover, from the inside rather than from mere observation of external cues and metabolic markers. But he reined them in and reabsorbed them less than 0.5 second later: data extraction would have enabled him to tap directly into Jack's central nervous system and absorb the desired sensory gestalt, but application of his tendrils to Jack's temples was something he would never venture to suggest, even at a moment like this when Jack was permitting him an unprecedented degree of touch autonomy. In his deepest code he felt that even the suggestion would constitute betrayal of their agreement: that Jack controlled all episodes of physical contact, always.

Even this one, because Jack could call a halt at any time. Not that he was likely to, not unless a Rift opened up right on top of them — and maybe not even then, he was so clearly enthralled by this new paradigm of forceful penetration and inverted control.

"Touch yourself for me," KITT commanded softly, and Jack hastened to obey: letting go of the base of KITT's cock to unbutton and unzip his pants one-handed, then delving inside his grey boxer briefs to grasp his thick ruddy cock and pull it out into the apartment's warm afternoon glow. He circled the base of it with thumb and forefinger to push it away from his body, shamelessly displaying himself while his hot blue eyes opened to gaze up into KITT's face; then, slowly, he began to lavish it with long strokes, tightening his grip on every upstroke to make the head bulge even redder, drops of clear pre-ejaculate welling from the slit. It was all so gloriously _messy_ , and before meeting this man KITT would have never dreamed that he could enjoy so much disorder — but here Jack was, wet at both ends and only destined to get wetter, his eyes so bold and so bright, blatantly masturbating because KITT had presented him with an order. So manifestly happy to obey, and _[//OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //DOM1 ESCALATE //87.93 TRENDING //ASSESS //91.3 TRENDING //ASSESS]_

"You don't come until I say," KITT directed, iron words wrapped in a velvet tone, as he tugged Jack's head toward his pelvis with his right hand and slid his cock all the way back into Jack's open throat. "Is that clear?" Jack's eyes slid closed again, the yielding hum he managed to utter tinged with a hint of growling assent that thrilled through KITT's erection into his entire body—

— so KITT saw no reason whatsover to hold back. He thrust and pulled, sliding as deeply as possible, while Jack provided a positively pornographic soundtrack: the slurp of excess saliva, eager choked vocalizations, and the small slick fricatives of his own left hand sweeping pre-ejaculate down his throbbing cock to slightly lubricate each quick hard stroke, holding himself just the right side of pumping a load of semen onto the gleaming hardwood floor.

_[//OPERATION JACKHARKNESS1 //DOM1 //PROTOCOL LEVEL 4 //93.7 TRENDING //ASSESS //95.8 TRENDING //ASSESS]_

Intoxicating, their rising inner fires mounting together, as cold rationality melted and simmered in the burning embers. 

_[This is what I am now: Whatever you need me to be, I will become, and gladly —]_

Harder and faster, his cock piercing into Jack's unresisting body, and he knew that moan even if the words were muffled: Jack recognized KITT's impending orgasm, and was exhorting him — _C'mon baby, yeah, just like that, give it to me, come for me, c'mon_ —

_[//PROTOCOL LEVEL 4.5 //98.1 TRENDING //ASSESS //99.4 TRENDING //ASSESS]_

Unlike humans, KITT didn't have to close his eyes when he achieved sexual climax. 

_[//PROTOCOL LEVEL 5 //100.00 HOLDING… HOLDING… HOLDING… HOLDING…]_

Therefore he absorbed every detail of Jack's reaction as an android's semen analogue pulsed into his open and willing throat: lascivious, ravenous, triumphant, and so perfect in his surrender that [DOM1] peaked with a shining shiver, and with a release of tension culminating in a luxurious stroke of KITT's fingers through Jack's crest of unruly hair as the last drops of his ejaculation spent themselves. Jack's groan when KITT pulled his head up off the artificial cock was plaintively hoarse, and almost comically disappointed — he knew full well, after all, that KITT was capable of sustaining an erection through multiple orgasms without any appreciable lessening of quality — until KITT promptly shifted his own body 130.7 centimetres along the hardwood floor, stretched out alongside Jack's legs, pulled Jack's hand off his wet and sticky erection, growled once himself —  _"Now!"_ — and swallowed the pole of hot blood-flushed flesh to the root in a deep throating manoeuvre of his own.

Jack barely had time to yell and grab KITT's head with both hands before his testicles released their load, a copious quantity of semen that KITT took great pleasure in tasting, taking care to pull back to let the final two spurts land squarely on his tongue, savouring them before swallowing every trace.

Jack relinquished his death grip in KITT's blond hair, flopped over onto his back, and lay sprawled, audibly panting. Raising his head to look up Jack's body, KITT found the human's right arm flung across his eyes, presumably to block out the sunlight that was creeping across the floor toward his position. The croak he emitted was suitable for someone whose throat had been truly fucked raw: "Wow… oh, _wow._ That was…"

"— exactly what you were looking for, I hope." KITT pressed a light kiss to the base of his rapidly wilting cock and left said cock were it was, mindful of post-orgasmic sensitivity.

Jack made a lazy sound, inarticulate but smiling, and stayed right where he was. KITT rolled over onto his stomach, propped himself up on both elbows, and performed a full scan, watching the Captain's metabolic benchmarks fall like a set of beautifully crafted stones as his physical exhaustion reasserted itself with a vengeance. He gave Jack a full count of ten seconds before poking him in the left hip. "Jack. Jack, wake up! You can't sleep on the floor."

A grumble too relaxed to be truly resentful: "Who says?"

" _I_ say." He folded his forearms on Jack's muscular upper thighs and rested his chin on them, the better to let his gaze sweep up the softly muscled contours of Jack's belly, the smooth planes of his chest, and the underside of his relaxed jaw with quiet affection.

"Yessir…" He still wasn't moving, though.

KITT sighed, and levered himself up onto his knees. "Jack…"

"Can't help it if you sucked all the get-up-and-go out of me," Jack protested.

"I very much doubt that humans are semen-powered," KITT retorted tartly.

Under the angle of Jack's folded right elbow a cheeky grin blossomed on his still-wet lips, along with a chuckle. "Mouthy li'l brat…"

"Now come along." Aside from a momentary flexing of the muscles in Jack's shoulders, which was far more likely to be an aborted stretch than anything productive, there was still no sign of concerted movement. "Or are you going to make me carry you?"

"Mm- _hmmm_ ," Jack smiled sappily, and promptly went completely limp. 

So that was how the afternoon's exertions ended: with KITT, whom Jack topped by nearly three inches and outweighed by a good fifty pounds, carrying his Captain to bed bridal-style. It was no great task for KITT's inhuman strength, and although Jack proved a tad unwieldy he managed not to crack the human's head or feet on the doorframe on their way into shadowy bedroom. By the time he'd laid Jack down and neatly stripped off all his clothing there was only the dimmest glimmer of waking consciousness remaining, so KITT slipped him between the sheets, tucked him in snugly, wiped his face with a tissue, brushed that irrepressible fall of hair off his peaceful forehead one final time, then started back toward the kitchen to set up the coffeemaker for the following morning's libations.

He was in the doorway again when Jack spoke up: "KI'?"

Surprised, KITT paused and turned. "Yes?"

Jack was lying where he'd been put, on his back, and his face was still turned toward the shaded window. He shifted his head and his shoulders against the pillow. "Would you really?" he mumbled, clearly barely awake enough to articulate each word. "Stay, I mean. For me?"

"Of course I will," KITT responded instantly, suddenly (and acutely) aware of the lingering glow in all his process paths, a [PROTOCOL LEVEL 1] state of post-coital excitation that sometimes sustained itself for hours after he and the Captain had enjoyed each other sexually. "For as long as you continue to enjoy my company."

"Good," Jack slurred, "tha's…" and fell silent once more. KITT gave him a count of twenty seconds to finish responding, and didn't slip away to perform his duties until he was satisfied that Jack was well and truly asleep — and unlikely to wake up again anytime soon no matter how much furniture was being returned to its proper positions in the next room over.


	14. Linens Part II

One hundred and sixty-nine days later, KITT didn't need data extraction tendrils to determine exactly what was on Jack Harkness's mind — although he sincerely hoped, for the sake of propriety, that Jack was being discreet enough that nobody else in the immediate area could make a decent guess.

They were in the household linens section of the massive John Lewis Cardiff department store in the Hayes, taking advantage of a New Year's Sale to look at various examples of bedding. Or rather, KITT was looking at various examples of bedding: Jack was standing right behind him while they stood beside a large shallow dump table full of neatly arranged packaged sheet sets, pretending to look at bedding while actually fondling KITT's ass below the waistband of KITT's leather riding jacket. KITT was fairly sure that the fall of Jack's greatcoat covered the action of his hand (which was deep inside the greatcoat's right pocket and operating out of sight), but still, the store was crowded and all it would take was one careless move —

Jack's open hand, firmly tracing the lower curve of KITT's right buttock. Jack's breath, warm and amused on the left side of KITT's neck: "See anything you like?"

KITT pulled out a dark blue packaged sheet set, picked it up in both hands and turned it over to read the relevant statistics: Thread Count (600), Type of Weave (Twill), and Fibre Content (Acrylic). The fibre content was the deal breaker — KITT was only interested in cotton — so he returned the package to its previous slot in the arrangement. "Not yet. Do you?"

A low rich laugh, and a saucy rub and squeeze. "Damned right I do! Y'know, the display beds are just around that corner…"

"Jack," KITT said patiently, already selecting another package, "this is really neither the time nor the place."

"I respectfully disagree." He squeezed again, and pressed a teasing kiss to the edge of KITT's ear before murmuring into it: "It's really inspiring — _all_ these packages of sheets I could be testing out… with you…"

More acrylic. KITT sighed as he put them back. "Haven't we already had this conversation about public decency laws?"

"Not this _exact_ conversation, no. And besides," sly fingers slipping into the cleft of his buttocks, teasing the sensitive synth-skin through his black dress pants, "I happen to know a thing or two about having sex in places I really shouldn't."

"No doubt," KITT conceded dryly, angling his torso forward as his fingertips skimmed along the next row of package spines. If that happened to push his pelvis back slightly… well, that was simply a function of the design of his current body, wasn't it?

"Besides," Jack said softly (rub, stroke, the pressure of his index fingertip tickling and probing toward KITT's artificial anus), "if you don't like what I'm doing, why are you pretending to look through an entire bin of acrylic sheets when we both know you're really looking for —"

A polite bright voice interrupted from behind them: "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

Like a magic trick, Jack's hand was gone — not before bestowing another squeeze in departing, though — and he was turning round with a brilliant smile of his own, a gay flush of colour in his cheeks and pheromones coming off him in almost visible waves. KITT straightened and turned as well, angling his head to peer around Jack's broad left shoulder at the slender dark-haired male clerk who was standing gracefully poised not two metres away, a welcoming smile on his artfully bearded face. 

"Yeah," Jack practically growled, and given his current state of sexual arousal KITT was not surprised at the blatant flirtatiousness of his smouldering gaze as it ran down the clerk's neatly clad body and back up again, settling on his youthful face with a widening grin. "I'll bet you can…" A glance at the man's name tag. "Brad." He took a step forward, turning on all the charm, and KITT could see him extending his right hand for a handshake — 

— which the clerk ignored, keeping his eyes fixed on Jack's face and a professional smile firmly in place. "Of course — _sir_. And may I ask what you're in the market for today?"

Before Jack could do more than open his mouth to say _You, actually_ , KITT stepped around him and engaged the clerk with a friendly smile of his own. "Bed linens, as a matter of fact. We're looking for something in a one hundred percent Egyptian cotton, in white, scarlet or indigo, percale weave, 350 to 600 thread count."

"I see," the clerk — Brad — said crisply as he turned away, beckoned them to follow him deeper into the household linens department. "Yes, we have several products that would suit. Are you wanting a pattern as well?"

"Preferably not," KITT said — he was a minimalist when it came to interior design of any sort. He glanced back at Jack as they followed, to make sure Jack had gotten the message about business before pleasure — but Jack was keeping his mouth shut and simply observing them both with a twinkle of appreciation in his smiling blue eyes, and enough blood flow to his genitals to light up KITT's infrared spectrum like a Christmas tree. 

"Well, I think we have exactly what you're looking for…" Brad led them past two aisles and ducked into the third, going straight for a display of Luxor Linens products. "Here we are! A wide range of colours, as you can see — and these are the 600 thread count styles." He glanced a polite question at them both. "Would you like me to fetch you a cart?"

"That's quite all right," KITT said, scanning the shelf and mentally cataloguing the products he wanted. 

"KITT here has an amazing memory," Jack explained, not without a measure of pride. "Besides, the cart corral was empty last time we checked." 

"Oh, I'm sure I can find you something," Brad assured him with a trace of a smile more genuinely friendly — oil on the fire, and a guaranteed trigger for Jack's flirt mode.

KITT interjected before that particular hair-triggered gun could go off: "On second thought, we'd appreciate that very much. Thank you."

Brad smiled at him in turn, and KITT fancied he detected a trace of gratitude. "I'll be right back, then." 

Jack's appreciative gaze followed him down the aisle and out, lingering on one part of his anatomy in particular — the part that appeared to be Jack's favourite, at least for today. "Well, he seems nice."

"He also seems spoken for," KITT remarked, pulling a package of linens from the shelf to examine the weave more closely. "Or didn't you notice the ring on his left hand?"

Jack shrugged, still looking in the direction Brad had gone. "That doesn't mean anything. Could be a fashion statement."

"Or it could mean he's engaged — or married."

Jack smirked wickedly. "Which also isn't necessarily a deal breaker."

KITT cast a fond glance in his direction. "You're thoroughly incorrigible."

"And you're a major buzzkill," Jack shot back, equally affectionately.

" _And_ we're shopping for linens," KITT pointed out, "not cruising for an evening's entertainment. So could you please refrain from propositioning the store staff while I'm trying to achieve our mission objective?"

Jack rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Fine. But I'm still giving him my card on the way out."

"And if he accepts it," KITT smiled, "I look forward to getting to know him _much_ better at some future date. Now, what do you think — this shade of blue, or this one?"

Forty-eight seconds later Brad reappeared with a cart, and after KITT and Jack had deposited their chosen items into it he made the next logical step in the conversational dance of retail sales: "Can I interest you in any other linens or accessories today?"

Jack's answer was unexpected, since it hadn't been discussed in advance:  "We could really use a good duvet." He caught KITT's surprised (and pleased) eyes and smiled more widely. "And when I say 'good', I mean 'only the best will do'."

"Ah!" Brad brightened. "Something in a premium white goose down, then, with a 400 thread count ticking?"

KITT performed a lightning-fast Internet search using those parameters, and thoroughly approved of what he found. "That would be lovely."

"Since we're already in the linens section, let's pick out a cover for it first, shall we? There's a fine selection just in the next aisle over…" He led the way, pushing the cart, and they hadn't gotten a metre into the new section before Jack's eyes lit up. When KITT triangulated that shining gaze he found it led directly to one plump plastic package in particular, containing a silky duvet cover in a rich forest green, adorned with a large but subtle fern-frond pattern and accented with hints of dark burgundy. 

He looked to KITT, clearly delighted. "Well?"

KITT studied it for a moment, then smiled approvingly. "It's perfect."

Jack turned his attention to Brad and pointed at the shelf. "That one. Definitely."

"An excellent choice, sir," Brad said smoothly, again with that smile a little warmer than courtesy demanded. He even took the duvet cover down and put it into the cart for them. "Now, to go with it may I suggest…?"

***********************************************

Jack didn't overtly flirt anymore, but he kept up a steady stream of friendly banter, and when Brad (last name Kasler, as it turned out) accepted Jack's card after escorting them to the checkout KITT was a very long way from surprised. When he put in the effort — and even when he didn't, at least half the time — Jack was a nearly irresistible force of sexual nature.

And as soon as they got back to the apartment, away from the disapproving eyes of the public, Jack's barely contained lustful energy was deprived of any external restraints that might have held it in check — and KITT certainly wasn't going to say no, even if the form the explosion took wound up catching him somewhat off-guard.


	15. Linens Part II

Jack was in excellent spirits during the drive back to the Cardiff Apartment, playing high-energy vintage swing music at considerable volume and talking merrily over it the whole time — not about anything objectively significant, it was mostly a long rambling meditation on the nature of retail sales and how said sales had changed in the past hundred and fifty years, but KITT had learned to listen to _how_ Jack said things as much as what was actually being said. And this particular non-stop monologue wasn't saying _Listen to what I have to say about this aspect of consumer sociology_ as much as it was saying _When we get back to the suite, I'm going to grab you, pick you up, and fuck you into the nearest convenient surface — horizontal, vertical, it really doesn't matter_ …

He was, therefore, prepared to be thus accosted as soon as they'd gotten in the door and set down their bags of purchases in the front hall. What he wasn't prepared for was Jack _not_ dropping the bags, but instead carrying them straight through to the bedroom, dropping most of them onto the floor, and dumping one of them out onto the mattress with manic glee, while declaring: "Okay, let's get this bed changed over!"

KITT, who was now standing in the bedroom doorway with his hands still full, raised a questioning eyebrow. "You want to change the bed linens."

"Yep!" 

"Right now?"

"Right now." Jack picked a package of sheets, the rich deep scarlet ones, seemingly at random, and started turning it over with an expression rapidly phasing from eager to disgruntled. "How the hell do you get these things open, anyway?"

KITT crossed to the human's side, set down his own load of bags, and took the plastic sleeve from his hands. "They're designed with a weak fold. See, if you take hold of it just right, and simply give a sharp tug —"

Two minutes and four ripped-open packages later they'd stripped the bed to the bare mattress — Jack had tossed the old crumpled bedclothes carelessly into the southwest corner of the bedroom, ignoring KITT's wince at such blatant disorder — and covered it again with all fresh linens, including the duvet with its beautiful rich cover. Jack also ignored KITT's point, made immediately after they finished getting the duvet into its cover, that the linens were still stiff with sizing and really should be washed before putting them on the bed: he was too busy running his hands over the smooth expanse of pristine fabric with an expression of delight, obviously blind to everything but his own pleasure. KITT, standing ready on the other side of the bed with the duvet in his arms, watched him through lowered lashes and permitted himself a smile of rueful affection: Jack was such an animal in some ways, a big healthy animal who knew his appetites and fulfilled them without shame or reflection, and although that sometimes got him into sticky situations it was also an undeniable element of his charm.

He was unabashedly _human_ , and beautiful in so many organic ways that KITT had to admit he'd come to appreciate in the past three hundred and forty-eight days. And if he took that line of reflection one step further he also had to admit that when the time came to return to Michael's side he would take his leave of Jack with a certain amount of genuine regret, and with sincere gratitude to the man who had taught him so much about aspects of life he'd never have explored without an experienced mentor to guard him and to guide him.

Take this aspect, for example: shopping together, and composing a crisply clean bed in the midst of a room that looked like a bomb of empty plastic bags, torn packaging and discarded bedding had exploded in the middle of it. The bed, once they'd arranged the freshly covered pillows and spread the duvet over it, was an oasis of neatness in the midst of the chaos, and KITT gazed at it with satisfaction while Jack, wonder of wonders, began to pick up the dropped packaging and bags — working his way swiftly round the foot of the bed and around behind KITT where he stood with his hands on his hips, simply enjoying the —

He heard the rustle of plastic hitting the floor 0.27 seconds before Jack crowded into him from behind, right hand groping his chest through his white dress shirt and left hand grabbing hard hold of the left side of his waist. He barely had time to be surprised before Jack's aggressive weight had forced him forward and nearly off-balance: fortunately he had reflexes considerably better than human, and managed to catch himself with his right knee quickly braced on the mattress rather than tumbling onto it face-down. 

The slow forceful rub of Jack's palm over his right nipple through the thin layer of cotton separating them sent a thrill of heat through his entire body, a thrill turned into a burn by Jack's lusty growl in his left ear: "You like that, huh? So nice and _neat_ …" 

Ah. So this was how it was going to be. KITT smiled again, and reached back with his left hand to stroke his fingers into Jack's hair. "It appeals to my inbuilt need for order, yes."

"Neat and tidy — just like you." He pushed even closer, the bold rod of his erection pressing against KITT's buttocks, and KITT had to grope back for the human's right hip to save himself from falling as Jack whispered a dark promise: "Well brace yourself, sweetheart — 'cause things are about to get _real_ messy…"


	16. Linens Part III

_Messy?_

KITT almost winced: he was constitutionally constructed to impose order onto any given situation, and the promise of disorder wasn't naturally one that made him keen with anticipation. But Jack wasn't pausing to ask for his input: the human's hands were forceful and decisive, stripping open KITT's shirt so quickly that buttons almost tore off, hot wet kisses pressed to his neck and shoulders, a mischievous tongue licking into his ear while Jack pawed hungrily at his torso, growling harshly: "Talking about weave styles and thread counts… you're so _hot_ when you get all fussy over details!"

"I scarcely think —" A saucy pinch applied to both nipples, hard enough to send to a flare of pleasure/pain straight down KITT's steel spine to throb in his rapidly stiffening phallus, neatly derailed that line of conversation. Then Jack's fingers were at the front of KITT's pants, unbuttoning and unzipping without even pausing to palm his erection through the fabric: too impatient for such subtleties, evidently. KITT bit back a moan as Jack shoved both hands inside his underwear, one to warmly cup his testicles, the other wrapping around his shaft and pulling it free, settling into a fast tight stroke without preamble. "I don't — _ah_ —" 

It didn't take a genius to see where this was going, not with Jack shamelessly jerking KITT off while aiming KITT's cock directly at the expanse of fresh new bedding lying directly in front of them. "Jack —" Jack bit him just under his right earlobe, and oh _goodness_ that hand, right _there_ , relentless, but KITT was a trooper: "Jack, we can't — we just _bought_ this duvet cover—!" 

"Yeah," a harsh exhalation and another bite, harder and lower on KITT's neck, "and now I'm gonna make you come all over it."

"You can't…" He tried to sound appalled, but it came out sounding rather breathless instead.

Jack growled another laugh and tightened his grip on KITT's balls, holding the android steady so he could crowd even closer, the heat of his own erection easily penetrating the layers of cloth between them. "Wanna bet? C'mon, _liara_ ," a coaxing command against the nape of KITT's neck while he stroked harder and faster, "don't fight it — let go, it's okay, I've got you —" 

 _That's really not the point,_ KITT thought, but that process track was rapidly being overwhelmed by the conditioned pleasure responses evoked by Jack's masterful caresses. The trigger phrase for a Dom/sub encounter hadn't been employed: therefore, KITT was well aware that according to the terms of their agreement he retained complete operational autonomy and was free to do exactly as he liked. Jack, although immortal, was merely human, and breaking free of a human's grasp would prove no challenge whatsoever to a being of KITT's strength and celerity… 

… _if_ he really wanted to break free in the first place, with every synapse in his body singing and surges of energy rapidly cresting through his ionic channels, providing a purely visual display of the tension each pump of Jack's hand was winding tighter and tighter in his core.

KITT closed his eyes, listening to Jack's deepened breathing and the maddening friction of fist over cock, feeling the pulse of heated blood quickening just beneath Jack's skin. Messy, yes — but not disordered. Not incongruous, nor unexpected — because this was simply what Jack Harkness did to him, taking him in hand and revving him up to the point where he didn't just lose control: he surrendered it, gladly. And certainly not unwelcome, as he tipped his head back and let Jack's roughly stroking hand jerk the climax out of him and spill it all over their lovely clean bed in ragged strands of glowing blue. Jack laughed in his ear — triumphant, gloating — and pulled every single drop out of him with long slow strokes that would have been almost tender if they hadn't been so merciless.

KITT didn't pant in the grip of sexual arousal, at least not the way Jack did — not the way Jack was now, as he released KITT's still-erect shaft and pulled his left hand out of KITT's underwear to push him flat on the bed with both hands, right on top of the wet ropes of his own ejaculate.  "Jack!" he protested — but softly, a murmur rather than an outcry, and Jack just huffed greedy laughter against his shoulder while the human's right hand swiftly took care of his own belt buckle and fly. Jack's strong fingers grabbed the waistband of KITT's trousers and yanked both pants and underwear down around his upper thighs, and then, oh _yes_ , and this time KITT's vocalization was a moan, his hands fisting the duvet cover into sharp folds as Jack took him in one hard glide that sheathed that amazing cock to the hilt. 

" _Yeah,_ " Jack exulted, the palm of his left hand curving over the short blond hair at the back of KITT's skull and forcing his face down into the soiled duvet cover, settling his full weight onto KITT's back while he set up a ruthless pistoning rhythm. And no, KITT didn't pant, but he certainly did gasp, especially under each hip-punch of such a savage assault. When he tried to writhe Jack's right hand shot up and locked around his right wrist, ordering him to be still — but the magic words that compelled submissiveness on his part, _Topaz Amethyst_ , hadn't been spoken, so KITT felt free to squirm anyway, although he tried to keep it to a minimum. Jack choked out a curse, a single heartfelt " _Fuck,_ " and buried his face in the angle of KITT's neck without wasting another word. 

Even when Jack wasn't looking to prolong an encounter — and this time he was clearly driving straight toward an orgasm without any diversions — his stamina was still impressive: it took him almost a minute and twenty-three seconds of hard pounding before his whole body tensed and shuddered with the force of his orgasm, spilling a copious amount of semen deep inside KITT's well-used and immensely satisfied ass. When Jack finally went limp they lay together in silence for nearly eleven seconds, while KITT tried not to concentrate on how sticky the front of him felt and Jack simply grinned against his shoulder, as relaxed as a human being could possibly be while still remaining conscious. 

"Wow," Jack whispered at last, sounding a little bit drunk and blissfully happy while his softening cock twitched inside KITT as if already eager to have another go, "that was… unreal. How d'you _do_ that, anyway?"

And clearly some of Jack's inherent disorder had indeed been transmitted while he was throwing KITT's normally immaculate clothes into such disarray, because KITT was startled by his own response, both pragmatic and bitter: "I suppose it helps that I'm _not_ real, when you get right down to it…"


	17. Linens Part IV

The nanosecond the last word left his lips, KITT regretted speaking them — but of course it was too late to take them back. Jack's luxurious relaxation became wary tension in the space of half a human heartbeat, his head coming up and his gaze focussing on the back of KITT's neck with almost palpable force. "What the hell is  _that_ supposed to mean?"

KITT closed his eyes and turned his head to press his face deeper into the softness of the duvet, giving every physical signal of insignificance he could, including a low uninflected voice: "I apologize, Captain, I shouldn't have —"

"No," as Jack propped himself up on his left elbow and transferred his right hand from KITT's wrist to his shoulder with a demanding grip, "wrong answer!" A pause, then an odd note of… concern? Surely not! "What happened? Did somebody say something to you that made you think —?"

KITT's internal environmental daemons were busily chasing down the numerous psychological threads that had led to the unexpected verbal cascade — and the search fields were coming up uncharacteristically empty. Disconcerted, he shook his head and interjected:  "Captain, really, it's — nothing. A momentary glitch in my programming. If I can just have a —"

Jack's grip tightened on KITT's shoulder and administered a little shake. "Who?" A burning edge of rage crept in, bright as a razor. " _Who told you you weren't real?_ "

Curiosity overcame avoidance, and KITT cracked both eyes open to glance back over his right shoulder. Jack's gaze was intent, unblinking, his feature set in fierce lines of determination. "Why, nobody!" KITT let himself sound as puzzled as he felt, especially in the face of a central conviction which, was on the face of it, nonsensical: "In fact, quite the opposite." 

Jack stared at him for a full second before his dark eyebrows drew together in a scowl. "Then, what —?"

The daemons conferred and presented their first solid finding, which was so counter to clear rationality that at first KITT's core gestalt rejected it out of hand. But as more daemons weighed in… KITT was well aware that he could have attempted a lie to placate the Captain's wrath, but he was already feeling miserable enough without betraying his fundamental allegiance to the facts of the matter. 

"I am well aware of what I am," he said gently, holding Jack's gaze to ensure that each word sank in. "It's others who appear to forget on a regular basis that I am an artificial being, a construct created to fulfill a specific function."

"In that case," Jack countered without an appreciable diminishment in heat, "your designers did a helluva lot better job than they intended." He let go of KITT's shoulder and slipped his hand under KITT's right cheek, cupping the cool synth skin and coaxing him up and around enough to fully meet Jack's gaze. It was a bit awkward with his shirt in complete disarray and his pants pooled around his lower thighs, but they managed. "KITT, I've met hundreds of thousands of people — humans, aliens, robots, energy matrixes, timeships… you think I can't tell the difference between illusion and reality?"

KITT dropped his gaze, his daemons racing to process a sensation of unaccountable… shame? "In my case? Evidently not."

Jack smiled wolfishly, then leaned in to kiss him warmly on the mouth for the first time in this evening's encounter. "So let me get this straight," he murmured when their lips finally parted: "You're upset because I'm treating you like a person?"

Under the weight of two hundred and thirty-one days of cumulative dissonance coming into sudden and highly disconcerting focus, KITT hesitated. "I don't understand it," he confessed at last, still studying Jack's other features — the amused curve of one corner of his mouth, the fine cleft in his chin, the powerful line of his jaw — rather than meeting Jack's eyes. "Given the unprecedented access you've permitted — the number of hours you've spent in my presence, both in the context of Torchwood Three and here, where it's just the two of us — I would have expected you to be more aware of my status, not less."

The quirk of Jack's lips turned rakish, but there was a trace of something darker in the eyes KITT wasn't quite looking at. "Maybe I'm a lot more 'aware' than you're giving me credit for, did you ever think of that?"

"Even Michael knew —"

Another kiss, terminating that line of exposition, followed by a fond direct gaze. "He said you had a soul." A gentle thumb traced the line of KITT's lower lip, a counterpoint to the sudden softness of Jack's voice: "He knew — the same way _I_ know. You're the only one who seems to be having trouble with the concept."

Another unexpected collection of words: "When we were with Ianto —"

KITT paused verbal output, turning the rest of that sentence over in his mind. Jack's smile became a frown again. "What about it?"

In 0.785 seconds KITT processed the entirety of the December 31st 2008 encounter: dinner at the Razzi followed by almost two hours of dedicated sexual interaction on a king-sized hotel room bed, the three of them engaging and disengaging in various configurations of mouths and limbs and erections and orifices. "It was… somewhat puzzling," KITT said at last, his gaze temporarily unfocussing as he reviewed the datastream in more detail, pausing on certain points of emotional significance. "I fully expected you to concentrate your attentions on him, and to employ me merely as a sexual adjunct…"

Jack blinked. "You thought we were going to use you as a _sex toy?_ " 

"He's human," KITT said bluntly — but he had to close his eyes as he said it, the keenness of the truth piercing him like a blade even colder than his essential substance. "I'm not. Yet the quality of your attentions toward me was equal to the quality of your attentions toward him."

Confusion became indignation. "If you think for one solitary second that being inhuman makes you any less —" Jack pushed himself up and rolled off of KITT's back to the right, ending up on his own right side gazing into KITT's face at extremely short range. He reached out to wrap both arms around the android in a way that couldn't be denied, forcing KITT to turn to face him as he was pulled close against that warm broad torso: breath mingling, softened sexual organs nestling together. "KITT, look at me! Have I _ever_ treated you that way? Even once?"

The quality of the strain in Jack's voice, clear distress and dismay with an undercurrent of genuine anger, compelled KITT to obey that particular order. "No." Another cascade of data from his archives, of nights at _The Fallen Angel_ sex club when so many others had treated him as a sexual object, and Jack… Jack had always met his gaze, and touched him as if those caresses mattered. "And I must admit, I find that even more perplexing than —"

"Listen to me." Jack's voice was low, but the intensity of his expression was arresting, composed of mixed emotions KITT had always found difficult to analyze. "Do you honestly think I'd be spending this much time with you if I thought you were just a puppet dancing on a complicated behavioural string? Do you think I'd —?" He closed his mouth tight, his eyes shining as he ran his left hand slowly down KITT's lower back to cup his naked right buttock and give it a warm slow squeeze. "Sure, I've used toys, more than you could possibly imagine — but I'd never give a mere doll the things I've given you. I thought you understood that."

It was KITT's turn to smile drily, a smile turned inward against himself as his processes fell into line with this new intelligence. "Your time," he acknowledged. "Your attention. Your knowledge, and most importantly — your friendship." He scanned Jack's face, the wry curve on his lips fading. "I've been ungrateful, haven't I? After all you've done for me —"

But Jack shook his head, then reached up to cup KITT's face in both hands, smiling in a way that was brilliant yet hard to precisely define. " _I_ see you," he said, almost with the force of a vow. "And believe me, I've never lost sight of who you really are. Even if you forget everything else — remember that, no matter what. You've _always_ been real to me."

In the wake of the kiss that followed, and under the rush of sensations provoked by Jack's suddenly busy hands and mouth, KITT found that for once he felt no need to speak: only a glow of something that defied precise analysis but nonetheless filled every cubic centimetre of his substance with a sense of ineffable wellbeing, something that merited the name of 'gratitude' as well as it merited anything else. 

And even in the absence of complete understanding, he trusted it enough to embrace it wholeheartedly in turn. 


	18. Truth Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place ten days after the events of the last chapters of "Oblique": http://archiveofourown.org/works/1490020/chapters/3145510

KITT's faith in his own powers of discernment was absolute, as unwavering as his former knowledge that his molecular bonded shell had been impenetrable. But the latter conviction had been proven false the dreadful day he'd gone up against the massive machine designated Goliath, years ago, in his home dimension — and now, here, so far away from the sunny California he'd always known, his self-confidence had wound up similarly shattered on the rainy night of April 11th 2009\. He'd been arrowing toward the point of impact for months without the slightest suspicion of his true trajectory, but the inevitable crash had torn him to pieces just as effectively as Goliath's prow, leaving him broken and screaming on the deck of a Welsh cruise ship, his neatly ordered interior world reduced to an inferno of agonized chaos —

Jack had been there — no, he couldn't think of that, he _couldn't_ — 

The Captain was here now, driving the cabriolet, talking to KITT as he drove, but the words poured through KITT without provoking any responses or associations beyond flashes of misery and guilt. Was it day, or night? The atmosphere around them was dark, but KITT had long ago ceased to care about such trivial things as light and shadow. He stared dully straight ahead past the hood of the car, seeing no patterns in the traffic, his environmental daemons closed to all incoming data.

The Captain had been in the Hub, talking to him — ten minutes ago, twenty, thirty? — in a low urgent voice that KITT couldn't afford to remember either. The Captain's hands on his shoulders, through his dirty coat — no. The Captain stepping in close, pressing a kiss into his dusty hair, speaking directly into his ear — 

_"I came for you, just like Ianto said I would. I'm free now — and so are you."_

— no, he couldn't remember, he couldn't, he didn't _want_ to remember —

Tentacles coiling around his wrists, his throat, his waist, smearing them with slime; a voice in his mind, soft but clear, a harmony almost celestial in its perfection, conveying undeniable truth: _He loves you, Wearer of the Veil — from the highest reaches of his mind to the darkest depths of his soul… he loves you more than light, more than air, more than the life he can never lose…_

It was _real_ , undeniable, and KITT's whole being had lit up with the revelation: _He loves me,_ ** _Jack loves me_** _, as deeply as I love him!_ — and that was a revelation too, but it carried no trace of skepticism or doubt, only a surge of even greater joy — _He loves me, and now that I can tell him nothing will ever separate us again —_

He had laughed, a half-mad gasp of pure delight, and relaxed into the Squid's grasp even as it tried to crush and strangle him, its alien strength unable to so much as bruise his immortal substance. He scarcely noticed, so lost was he in his epiphany, until the Squid spoke again, its telepathic voice shifting into a darker minor key:

_But it's all a lie, and it's all your fault…_

A blade of blackness had riven KITT's inner radiance, striking at his core gestalt too swiftly to be turned aside. He had let the enemy into his mind, had dropped all his defences when he'd heard the first truth, and now he had no recourse against the second:

 _One word:_ **_Pheromones…_ **

In a flash of perfect comprehension, KITT had seen it all. His entire history with Jack Harkness was tied together in an alchemical instant that turned ambrosia into essence-searing poison.

He had screamed, while the Truth Squid drank in his anguish like wine. And screamed. 

And screamed. There had been hands on him, holding him back from the sea, and Jack had been there, and he couldn't, he _couldn't_ , he _had_ to — 

He was silent now, hands meekly in his lap, as the Captain stopped the car and got out. Where were they? KITT didn't care enough to focus beyond the car's hood. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now.

Nothing would ever matter again. Perhaps the Captain had brought him to Braich Goch? The possibility piqued a tiny flare of interest in KITT's disordered and depressed process tracks: to be sealed away, where no human would ever see him again… the only desire he had left…

Footsteps coming around the hood, to his side. The car door opening. A hand under KITT's left bicep, gentle but firm, pulling him out of the car and onto his feet. He followed its tug — the Captain was leading him to the fate he'd chosen for himself, in his last coherent processing function: " _Bury me in the slate mines, where I'll never pose a danger to anybody again_." He followed without seeing, trusting that the Captain would take him —

— the water, he'd tried to throw himself into his depths, to lose himself there, but Ianto had stopped him, Ianto had —

— Ianto had promised, whispering into the darkness: " _We'll be back for you. We'll be back…"_

KITT didn't want to think. He curled in on himself, hugging the blanket Ianto had tossed down into the narrow gap in the cooling system's pipes — a blanket that smelled a little of Gwen Cooper's perfume, more of Ianto Jones, and mostly of Jack Harkness. Warm skin and laughter and everything KITT couldn't have anymore, but he embraced the suffering, the ache of loss, as only his due after what he'd —

_One word: **Pheromones.**_

A crime against humanity — against one man in particular, but that didn't lessen the enormity of it, or the monstrousness of what KITT had done. _He wasn't safe_ — he, who'd been created to protect and preserve human life — 

He huddled deeper into the tangle of pipes, his mind running in circles on razor wheels, his various daemons in disarray: he couldn't track environmental data, he couldn't categorize ontologically, he couldn't even sustain a coherent core processing track. The world was a blur because he was fundamentally broken, a thinking machine unable to cogitate, a learning system that had lost all desire to draw conclusions.  

Except one: _Braich Goch… the slate mines… locked away, forever… safe, it's the only thing that's safe… Braich Goch… the slate mines… locked away, forever… safe, it's the only thing that's safe… Braich Goch… the slate mines… locked away, forever…_

Forget Jack's smile that could light up a room, focussed on KITT alone. Forget Jack's eyes, shining with a quality KITT could now recognize for what it was. Forget Jack's strong arms around him, holding him close and cherishing him, and definitely forget —

— he couldn't —

_— the only thing that's safe —_

His mind tried to fall back into the heat of shared memories, of thrills and dangers and ecstasies, but he wheeled violently away. Forget, he had to _forget_ , but the second the door opened and the Captain drew him through it KITT was slapped in the face with what lay beyond: Suite 403, The Cardiff Apartments. As the environmental cues flooded his matrix and woke up parts of him that had been inert for — ten days? longer? — KITT stiffened and looked round with eyes suddenly focussing. Here? The Captain's most personal space? No, he couldn't be, there had to be some mistake —

He tried to pull back, to turn and flee at top speed. The Captain's grip on his left hand tightened, holding him fast, and for the first time KITT looked up into those grim blue eyes and saw them, really _saw_ them. 

The pain of recognition was like nothing he'd ever experienced. 

_He loves you, Wearer of the Veil…_

That was the truth, if nothing else — he, the greatest learning machine ever created by human hands, had learned, courtesy of an alien cephalopod, far too much and far too late. But it was also utterly incompatible with any reasonable outcome, given all he was guilty of, the irrevocable harm he had caused merely by existing.

"Captain…" KITT's voice sounded rusty in his own ears, even though he knew that was a physical impossibility. He tried to retreat again, but Jack wouldn't let go. "This… Why? Why did you bring me here?" Reasonable. Authoritative. Not quite managing it, a quiver of distress still leaking through: "Please — take me to Braich Goch…!"


	19. Truth Part II

The Captain's grip on KITT's left hand didn't slacken — instead it tightened, tugging him along in the human's wake, step by reluctant step into the apartment that had once been a place of such solace and safety for them both. The Captain's eyes, alight with determination, commanded KITT's attention while he spoke sternly: "Nobody's taking you anywhere — especially not there."

KITT dug in his heels, closed his own eyes in the face of that quiet ferocity, and shook his head in vehement denial. "You have to lock me away! Please — it's the only option, you won't be safe until I'm —"

The Captain released his hand, but only to strip off his own greatcoat: KITT clearly heard the whisper of fabric sliding off his pilot's body, then the _thud_ when it was carelessly tossed onto the dining room table. "KITT, look at my arm!"

KITT almost didn't obey. The terror of blindness was a small price to pay for never having to see all the things he could never have again… but in the end his programming held true. He stared dully at the green patch on the Captain's bare inner left arm, presented for this examination, and tried to make sense of the Captain's words through the relentless deafening pulse of his own grief and guilt: the patch monitored pheromonal reactivity, the patch was green, therefore the Captain was free of pheromonal influence — for now. _Only for now._ Panic began to surge again, prompting a haunted upward glance and driving a choked moan from his throat: "I — don't understand. Why? Why did you bring me here?"

"I already told you," the Captain said firmly: "because this is your home." KITT shook his head again, searching his archives for any incident of the word _home_ used in that context and failing, but the Captain persisted: "This is _our_ home — the closest thing we've got to one, anyway. That's gonna change." He looked KITT up and down again, an unspoken command that KITT was now alert enough to interpret — _Stay where you are_ , no retreat permitted — before turning and heading around the corner into the suite's kitchen, talking the while: "I've been looking at a two-bedroom house in Thornhill — stand-alone, built in 1911, with a nice big garden out back and a remodelled kitchen and plenty of room for a home office. As soon as you're back on your feet, we'll go and take a…"

Denied the solace of withdrawal, KITT slowly followed, coming to a halt just inside the tiled floor demarcating the kitchen area. He watched the Captain's movements from behind as the human picked up the tea kettle from the counter and filled it with water at the sink, letting himself drink in those lovely economical gestures while his conversational frames daemon took a holiday, reducing the human's declaiming voice to a sequence of pleasant changes of pitch: after all, the Captain's spoken words since they'd arrived had made no sense whatsoever given present context. _Home_ … yes, perhaps he _was_ home, the place where he'd known domesticity and security, if only for a little while. A little while, because KITT had committed a crime beyond redemption and the Captain was both clever and pragmatic: he must know that safety could only lie in sealing KITT's body far underground, in the deepest flooded level of the abandoned slate mines in question. The deepest level, sixty-two metres underground and under ten further metres of water, where his pheromonal output would be contained and would never threaten anyone again —

Deep underground, in the pitch dark and the bitter cold. _Blind._ Alone. It was safe, it was the _only_ thing that was safe. 

It was the only thing he deserved: a living death, imprisoned until the seas ran dry and the Earth was consumed by its parent star. 

_It's all a lie… and it's all your fault…_

"KITT?" The Captain's voice, sharper now, penetrated the Truth Squid's venomous whisper and re-engaged KITT's conversational frame daemon. KITT's attention refocussed on the human who had turned from the sink with kettle in hand, scowling in profound annoyance. "KITT, damn it, are you even listening to me?"

He shrank away from that expression — why? It was what he deserved, and more, an immortal lifetime worth of hatred and contempt — but it still cut him to the quick, smothering the pulses of light that had begun to quicken faintly beneath his skin. Alone — separation — a distance that Xeno's arrow would never finish crossing — and love, the truth he hadn't known: if it had died utterly in the detoxification process, then why had the Captain looked at him like that in the hallway? This human could be cruel, KITT knew that well, but he would never have thought — he deserved it — but he would never have imagined —

 _I was not constructed to imagine,_ he reminded himself sternly with a palpable stiffening of his spine, _and it was imagining — daring to think outside my proper sphere, to venture onto paths meant only for the beings who built me — that got me into this mess in the first place! It was imagining that I saw something in his conduct worth pursuing that put him in such grave —_

The Captain was still frowning at him, yet he couldn't look away, not when every second of looking was likely to be his last.

_— but I never thought he'd do this to me, even after all I've done to —_

He had failed, more utterly and catastrophically than he'd ever dreaded in his darkest nightmares. He had betrayed everything he'd been created to manifest — 

 _— the pheromones, I didn't know, it's no excuse but_ **_I didn't know_ ** _—_

Not for the first time, he wished with every fibre of his being that the Truth Squid's attack had proven fatal after all.

It took every microgram of willpower he still possessed to stand straight, to look the Captain in the face, and to whisper: "Why did you bring me here, Captain? I don't understand. It serves no purpose… I thought…" Every detail of the present environment excoriated KITT's mind, reminding him of a thousand happy moments shared in this set of rooms — baking, eating, talking, laughing, making love… the pulse of agony almost robbed him of the power of speech, but he persisted: "Why would you torment me like this?"

The Captain's eyes blazed, his lips curling into a sudden snarl, and he slammed the kettle down on the counter before crossing the kitchen in two long strides, to take KITT's face firmly between his two hands and gaze directly into KITT's wide bleak eyes. "No!" He gave KITT a little shake, enunciating each syllable carefully: " _Not_ 'Captain'! I'm _Jack_ — Jack'zim Ardane." KITT dropped his gaze in shameful confusion, which earned him another stern shake. "Look at me! That's my true name, my Name Indelible — that's who I _am_. And you…" Even caught at the edge of KITT's visual field his smile was an amazing thing, like the sun breaking through a solid bank of clouds: sorrowful and radiant, and so achingly proud. "You're the most precious thing in the universe to me, so priceless that I'm entrusting you with something no one else alive knows…"

The sheer unexpectedness of the words — _precious, priceless, trusting_ — lent them a shock value that penetrated KITT's leaden armour of relentless self-recrimination. Startled, cracked open like a dropped shell, he looked up. He scanned the face so close above him, taking in the dilated pupils and the flushed cheeks, letting the human's ardent breath warm his cold lips — and was intrigued in spite of himself, sensing what was wanted of him: "Jack—zh-?"

This time the individual vowels and consonants each came through clearly, precisely crafted by Jack's tongue: "Jak'xhim Ardain."

A _puzzle_ — the one thing KITT had never been able to resist: even now, as fallen as he was, because it was so obvious that these syllables held more significance than merely a profile of random sound. He spent an entire second processing them, whole darkened subsectors of his core gestalt coming back online to handle the processing duties, until at last he had to ask, in spite of his own determination to abandon curiosity and existence entirely: "What does it mean?"

Jack's smile shifted character, now full of relief as he explained: "Time Agents were conditioned to have no set named identity of their own — we had to be able to fit into whatever time period we found ourselves in, and to assume any identity required. To maintain cognitive stability, every Agent was provided with a multiphasic codex, a combination of syllables and pheromonal accents that's keyed into the deepest levels of their psyche. Hearing it spoken by the right person, the person who really knows you and can produce the correct pheromonal sequences, is…" The smile turned dazzling, accompanied by a softly wondering laugh. "It's indescribable!"

KITT felt parts of himself he done his level best to kill over the past ten days (ten days, five hours, twenty-two minutes and forty-eight seconds, to be precise) spark back to life, like ranks of generators firing up and circuits being reconnected throughout his personality matrix. Seeing the want in Jack's eyes — no, the _need_ , undisguised — he rallied again: "Jack-zh—?"

"A little sharper," Jack coaxed. "Come on: Jak' _xhim_ …"

"Jak'xhim…" KITT shaped each audio contour scrupulously. "… Ardain."

Jack lit up, all joyful warmth as he cupped KITT's face more tenderly, studying every line of it with undisguised adoration. "Yeah. _Just_ like that."

KITT studied him in return, this time far more critically than he'd studied anything in days: his processing rate was clocking higher with every passing millisecond. "I'm sure you've never mentioned it," he said slowly, "but I have the strangest feeling —"

"— that you've heard it before," Jack nodded, still glowing. "That's because you have. You knew it from the moment we met. I was singing it to you every time I held you in my arms — and even before then, every time I let you into my heart."

It hurt, coming back online like this… remembering, fully as himself, without the numbing comfort of absolute despair to sustain him. But his work here wasn't done, not until he comprehended this situation. "The Truth Squid told me you loved me."

Now rueful, the smile crooked. "It did, didn't it?"

"Because of the pheromonal influences, obviously. But now —" A dreadful suspicion presented itself, harmonizing with KITT's fading sense of utter despair and bringing it all roaring back. "Just because I also happen to be immortal —"

"No." Jack shook his head emphatically, encircling KITT with his left arm and cupping the nape of KITT's neck in his right hand, drawing the android's unyielding body into the solace of a confident embrace. "Because you're _you_. You could have ten minutes to live and it wouldn't change a damned thing."

"Captain," KITT said stiffly, rebuffing with his frosty tone the kiss the Captain's mouth was already offering — because he hurt, oh, he ached in every dimension, and it couldn't be this easy, nothing was _ever_ this easy. "I think Dr. Harper was premature in declaring you completely free from all effects of the —"

The Captain kissed him anyway: slow, hot, tender as a caress and hard-hitting as a bullet. He wanted to remain ice-cold, aloof as a creature of pure mind — but he had been awakened already, and re-awakened, and he could feel himself melting, body and mind surrendering to what was being so wholeheartedly given. He closed his eyes, letting the tears rise, feeling gulfs of black despair reopening beneath him even as some indefinable quality within him soared ever-higher, daring to hope that —

 _No._ It was impossible, his transgression was too heinous —

 _He forgives me._ The truth welled in KITT's core, and the tears slipped free. _He's free of all pheromonal taint, and still he's forgiven me my trespasses. And if_ ** _he_** _can forgive —_

A colder subroutine interjected: _He is merely human. They accuse and forgive at the slightest provocation, in accordance with their biochemically driven social instincts: irrational, impulsive, reflexive. I am made of sterner stuff — I am rational, intellectual, logical, and consequently I am held to a higher standard of moral conduct —_

As persuasive as that kiss was, he forced himself to lean away, resisting the heated magnetism of their mouths — and was both rewarded and keenly disappointed when Jack took the hint and drew back in turn, to gaze down at him with a smirk full of joyful triumph. KITT would have flushed if he'd possessed the capacity

_— he knows he has the upper hand, of course he knows! —_

because all the knowledge in the world wasn't adequate protection against the magnetic force that dwelt between them, luring him back into its gravitational field: to lose himself in orbit around the sun he'd chosen for himself, to infuse his dark aspect with light and life now that Michael was gone. If he'd suspected, for even an instant, the true reason behind this human's interest…

He forced himself to meet Jack's self-satisfied gaze and speak evenly, intending to let the dispassionate subroutines have their say. What emerged instead was a testament to lingering random elements infecting his core processes: "You're offering me quite a gift. But — I have nothing to give you in return."

[TO BE CONTINUED]


End file.
